Light of the Edoras
by Aelthar101
Summary: When their parents died Eomer and Eowyn were sent to live with their uncle. There Eomer befriends an extremely intriguing girl who plays an important role in bringing not only Eomer from darkness, but the rest of Rohan as well. Will this girl be able to sit idly by as the War of the Ring looms closer? Will Eomer be able to realize what exactly he feels before its too late? Eomer/oc
1. Prologue

"Tell me a story nan," the young girl asked a sparkle in her eye as her elderly grandmother desperately tried to settle her down for bed.

"Where did we last leave Frodo and Samwise the Brave?" she asked settling down into the rocker by the fire.

"Not that story again Gran," the young boy said, rolling his eyes, "I know that story so well that _I _could tell it, and I am a horrible story teller."

"Yes!" her granddaughter said, "tell us a story we have never heard before."

The grandmother smiled, and looked at her two grandchildren, "There is but one story I have yet to tell you."

The grandchildren instantly sat up in their beds, eagerly awaiting this mysterious story their grandmother was about to tell.

"This story, is often forgotten as the story of the One Ring so often over shadows it."

The children, if possible were even more intrigued.

"This is as story of honor, and bravery."

"Is there a battle?" the young boy asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

The old woman chuckled, "Yes dear boy, there is a battle, and one of the biggest cavalry charges in all of history."

"What else is this story about nan?" the young girl asked.

The grandmother smiled, "This is a story, of true love, a love that brought an entire realm together in a time of war to fight against a common enemy. This is how the Light of the Edoras came to be."

"But nan," the boy questioned, "the Light is not an actual person, it is just a thing…right?"

The old woman shook her head, "The Light was as real as you or I. This is her story."


	2. Chapter 1

The Golden Hall stood as it had for many years, regal, amongst the towering cliffs of the White Mountains that surrounded it. Though it lacked the immense size of the White Halls of Gondor, The Golden Hall lacked none of its splendor. The broad scrollwork was imbedded with gold causing the hall to gleam in the sunlight as the many horse figures stood ever watchful. It was their eyes that had seen the city of Edoras through times of peace, prosperity and war. The splendor of the hall, somewhat weathered over time but no less magnificent, was lost on the somber crowd gathered at its base.

The king stood stoic in front of his people. His warrior mentality forced him to contain the storm of emotions coursing through him as he stared at the litter before him. It was truly a sad day for Rohan. The day the Theoden King was forced to watch as his sister was placed in the crypt next to her husband.

Theoden's eyes may have been blank, yet his mind was a whirlwind of grief, rage and concern for the two figures who stood huddled next to one another by his son Theodred.

Eomer, a young boy of eleven, stared at his mother's frail body with eyes older than even a grown man should have. His face was unreadable yet he clung to his sister with such desperation it broke Theoden's heart further. Eowyn, who looked so much like her deceased mother, sobbed into Eomer's shoulder. At seven yeas old, she was too young to fully understand what forces of evil had hastened her mother's death, yet was keenly aware to the fact she was never going to see her again.

Theoden closed his eyes trying to escape from the mournful cries of the women and the sobbing of young Eowyn. Eowyn and Eomer were too young to be growing in a world so filled with evil. This should never have happened to them.

The slamming of the stone crypt jerked Theoden from his thoughts as Eowyn collapsed to the ground sobbing for her mother. Eomer stood trying to conceal his quivering lip but unable to hide the tears streaming down his face.

Theodred bent down to Eowyn, "Hush now Eowyn," he soothed, "she is with your father now."

He slowly took her in his large arms and stood up turning to Eomer as the crowd slowly dispersed back to their homes.

"Eomer," Theodred called softly but firmly, "come now, your mother rests in peace."

Eomer didn't look up at either Theoden or Theodred but nodded his head, quickly wiped away his tears and followed far behind his cousin and uncle towards the Golden Hall. Theodred was talking softly to Eowyn who had stopped her crying. Theoden however focused his attention on Eomer who was kicking anything that lay in his path as hard as he could.

Theoden nodded at the guards to the Golden Hall and the doors were slowly pulled open. He turned to see Eomer staring up at the stoic horse figures.

"Eomer?" Theoden called. Eomer jumped slightly before walking up the last of the stairs to his waiting uncle.

Theoden forced a smile hoping Eomer would not see how strained it was_**.**_

__"Welcome home."

Eomer stopped suddenly at the entrance to the large hall; it was nothing like the light and airy home he had spent his earlier years in.

"This is not my home," he replied flatly following after Eowyn who was now in the company of a handmaiden.

Theodred moved to go after him but Theoden stopped him, "Leave him be," he said sadly, "He simply needs time."

Theoden looked after the two siblings with a heavy heart as he slumped down on his throne at the head of the hall. Theodred stood before him worriedly; his father seemed to have aged twenty years in the past two days. There was no doubt that the increasing number of orcs and the death of his sister accounted for this weariness in the usually steadfast king, yet Theodred still worried.

Theoden looked towards the two newest additions to his court, of whom the handmaiden was desperately trying to feed. Eowyn was nibbling at some black bread, while Eomer simply scowled at his plate. Theoden sighed, running his hands over his face as if that simple action could remove the horror from the past weeks.

"This day will soon fade to a sad memory for Eowyn yet I fear what it will do for Eomer," Theodred stated simply to his father who never taking his eyes off the two siblings.

Theoden smiled fondly at the memories of his late friend, "If he is anything like I remember his father to have been, he needs time, a good friends, and an equally good challenge."

Theodred looked at his father in confusion.

"How is Arroch these days Theodred?"

Theodred scoffed as he realized what exactly his father was suggesting, then sobered when he realized Theoden was completely serious, "Still as untamed as he was when Deor was killed last month."

Theoden thought on that for a moment, "And Lyrian?"  
Theodred smiled knowing exactly what his fathers plan was, "She still manages to sneak into his stall, though I think Hama will chain her to her room if he finds her there again."

Theoden nodded, "You should introduce Eomer to Arroch."

"And Lyrian?" Theodred asked, "Shall I introduce him to her as well?"

Theoden shook his head, "She'll reach him when he is ready. For now we can only provide him with something to keep his hands busy. If he is indeed like his father, I fear greatly for the safety of the furniture should his hands become idle," Theoden said in memory of the havoc Eomer's father had caused when his own father had died.

Theoden sighed, "He has already experienced so much pain, so much grief for one so young. I wish there was more that could be done."

Theodred looked at his father's worn and weary face. He still grieved for his sister yet his priority now resided with the two additions to his household.

"I will talk with Fram tomorrow morning. I am certain he will be understanding of the situation."

With a nod Theodred left leaving his father to his thoughts, while the horses of the Golden Hall watched over the king until night fell.

Eomer had been successful in avoiding everyone the entire morning. Even his sister, who had taken to following Theodred like a young pup had not noticed his absence. The morning had begun cool and crisp, the strong breeze that seemed ever present atop the hill seemed to call Eomer outside. His heart was heavily burdened and the thought of being trapped indoors all day long only seemed to encourage his thoughts to stray back to his mother, something he had been trying very hard not to do. He struggled for a moment trying not to succumb to the immense grief he had bottled up for so long.

Eomer glanced out of the alleyway he was currently hiding in to see the stables he had spotted when he first arrived at Edoras. In fact it was hard to ignore the giant stables, as they were almost as large as the Golden Hall itself. Eomer looked both ways to make sure Theodred or Theoden was not anywhere near for they would surely drag him back to the hall to sit for his blessed lessons. Seeing the coast was clear, Eomer ran to the stables and slipped inside.

He was met with a truly magnificent sight. The stables of Edoras were large enough to stable every horse in the capital, plus at least half another eored. Stable boys ran back and forth carrying grooming brushes and pitchforks, polishing cloths for the saddles and lunges to exercise the horses.

Loud whinnying and stomping could be heard from the back of the stables.

"Fram!" a strong voice called, "He is at it again! His stall has not been cleaned in a week!"

A fierce old man looked down the row of stalls to the frustrated youth.

"Leave him then, we'll turn him loose today, see if that will get him out of his stinkin' stall," he grumbled.

Eomer looked down the stalls trying to see which horse was being difficult. All the horses in the stables seemed calm at the moment. He slowly walked towards the loud whinnying and snorting. The busy stable boys didn't bother to send him a second glance and Eomer was able to make it to the end of the stalls without being seen. He peered into the stall in front of him and his eyes widened.

The horse inside was pacing in circles, his eyes wild and untamed. Eomer could tell this horse had once been an incredible mount, yet at the moment, it was nothing more than a trapped wild horse. Eomer walked up to the stall to get a closer look. The horse started at the small person standing at his stall and stared at him with wild eyes. Eomer looked around for anything he could give the horse and his eyes fell on a bucket of oats nearby. He grabbed as much as his hand could hold and ran back to the stall, opening his palm to show the horse what he had.

"Come here boy," he mumbled softly, "Come on! I have some nice tasty oats for you! Come here."

The horse only snorted at Eomer his eyes still wild. A soft giggle came from the tack room next to the stall. Eomer looked around but saw nothing except for the many saddles carefully stacked together.

He turned back to the horse, "Come here boy!"

The giant horse snorted again tossing his head at Eomer. The giggles turned into laughter. Eomer spun around glaring for the source and was met with two strikingly green eyes watching him from behind the saddles.

"You will never get him to calm like that," the eyes spoke.

Eomer snorted, "You can do better then?" he asked haughtily.

The eyes disappeared as the figure walked out from behind the saddles revealing a young girl no older than Eomer, "You can't speak to him like he's an animal," the young girl said, "That's why he gets so frustrated."

She calmly walked into the stall, much to Eomer's amazement. The horse could easily have trampled her she was so small. She reached as high as she could and started to stroke him, speaking to him in a strange language.

"Man la trasta Arroch hmm?" she said calmly as she would to any person, "Man la trasta?"

Eomer watched in amazement as the wild horse slowly calmed beneath her gentle touch. She reached into her pocked and pulled out a carrot, which the now docile horse carefully took from her hands. It was that moment, when she reached into her pocket Eomer realized that unlike his sister, this girl was not wearing a dress. She was dressed very similarly to the stable boys; her dark hair was even cut short, just barely reaching her shoulders.

"A Ranger form the North stayed here for a time and I overheard him speaking to Arroch like that," she said while she continued stroking the horse, "I'm the only one that knows just how to calm him," the girl said with pride.

Eomer just stared at her, not quite sure how to respond, "Why is he so wild?"

The girl patted Arroch' side gently before she walked over to Eomer, "His rider was killed in an orc raid last month. The man was in Theodred's eored. Theodred doesn't want him to be set free, that's why he' still here," she said knowingly.

The girl looked at Eomer carefully, "I know you," she said plainly, "You are Eomer, Theodred told me you were coming."

Eomer scowled at her now that he was reminded of why he was in Edoras in the first place.

"You are lucky you know," she said staring at Eomer with her vibrant green eyes.

Anger swelled up inside Eomer, his hands trembling as his mind went back to the previous day, "How am I lucky?" he growled. Even at the young age of eleven his temper was something to behold, "My mother is dead."

The young girl was not surprised at all at his outburst and smiled calmly, "I never knew my mother she-"

"Lyrian!" came Theodred's voice from the entrance to the stable, "You are going to suffer the wrath of Mordor from your father if he catches you with Arroch again!" he said as he walked towards them.

Lydian's eyes widened and she looked at Eomer, "I'll see you later then Eomer," she said before running as if her father were shouting after her.

Theodred looked at a very bewildered Eomer and smiled, "It is safe to return to the Hall if you wish, dinner is being served and you have managed to miss all of your morning lessons," he said with a smirk.

Eomer only glared at Theodred before walking towards Meduseld. Theodred followed at a distance, leaving Eomer his space with a slight frown. It was well known that Lyrian, even at the young age she was, could tame horses as well as any elf, yet would she be able to show Eomer there was more to life than the utter despair he felt now? Only time would tell, something the horses of Meduseld knew too well.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Lyrian awoke to the sound of a maid lighting her fire; her father had forgotten to attend to it on his way to the king. This was not unusual to her as her father was so often busy with the king

she rarely saw him in the mornings and as a result often looked to the young Theodred for entertainment.

Lyrian scurried to the main hall of Meduseld looking for something to eat when instead she caught sight of Theodred himself.

"Theodred!" she called running towards him.

Theodred turned smiling upon hearing her cheerful voice, "Lyrian," he scolded mockingly, "running wild through Edoras already? The sun has barely risen."

Lyrian raised an eyebrow at the strangeness of the question, "It is boring waiting for the sun to come up. You cannot expect me to sit and wait for it do you?"

Theodred laughed and leaned down slightly to her_** leverl**_, "If you are as bored as you say you are, perhaps you should show me what you have practiced then hmm?" he said with a smirk.

Lyrian's eyes widened with excitement but as she turned to rush from the hall Theodred scooped her up and plopped her down at a table, "After you have broken your fast."

Eomer, who was seated at the end of the same table, had been watching the exchange between his cousin and the young girl with much interest. He slid down the bench until he was sitting right in front of Lyrian who was eating bread and cheese as fast as she could.

"What are you practicing?" Eomer asked, brows furrowed and his gaze set heavily on the girl in front of him.

"Archery," Lyrina said without missing a beat, "Theodred is teaching me."

At this Eomer scoffed, "Girls cannot learn archery."

Lyrian looked at Eomer, eyes blazing yet her face remained calm, "Why not?" she demanded.

Eomder did not back down, "Fighting is for the men, there are not any women in the Eoreds."

Lyrian threw her bread down and was quiet for a few seconds, her eyes downcast before she looked up at Eomer, her face now impassive and__calm, "I can shoot better than most boys my age. Why can I not fight against evil? It doesn't affect me any differently than it does a man."

She stood abruptly and grabbed a piece of cheese as she ran from the hall to catch up with Theodred. Eomer watched her go with mixed emotions. She was a small girl yet she bore herself as__strongly as any boy. These thoughts kept him sulking over his breakfast until he saw his uncle enter with his captain, Hama beside him.

Eomer snuck out of the Hall and soon found himself at a wide-open space behind the stables which the soldiers used to train. He heard a familiar voice in the center and watched with much amusement as Lyrian and his strong cousin dueled with wooded swords. Theodred was being very gentle with the young girl yet Lyrian was not an inexperienced swordsman. Her skills equaled that of any boy her age.

Eomer found himself wondering again why this girl was so different than the others__he knew.

Lyrian charged towards Theodred__but instead of blocking her attack, he simply picked her up and swung her over his shoulders like a sack of flour.

"Theodred," she grumbled, squirming in his grasp, "put me down!"

Theodred only laughed harder before he dropped her on the ground.

"Lyrian!" came a strong voice from behind Eomer causing him to jump.

Lyrian spun around, her face flushed with laughter and her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Father!" she cried happily running over to her father babbling about her progress with her bow and sword.

Theoden, who had been walking with Hama about the fort, watched his captain as he talked to his daughter.

When Hama's wife Leofwyn died, his friend and captain had been distraught, unsure of how to care for his newborn daughter. Yet as Lyrian grew, Hama had returned to his usual jovial state. Theoden viewed Lyrian as a daughter much as he viewed Eomer and Eowyn. Leofwyn had been very close companions with his wife and Theoden would be remiss__to see the girl grow up wanting anything.

Eomer watched the whole exchange with a sour feeling in his gut. Everything was perfect here. Nothing had changed since his mother died. The world acted as if nothing had happened. He stormed towards the stables back to the same stall he had met Lyrian yesterday.

Arroch now stood passive in his stall slowly munching on his feed as if nothing in the world existed. Eomer held out his hand full of oats.

"Man lastra?" he murmered to the horse trying to get him to come closer, "Man lastra."

Arroch continued to ignore him as if Eomer didn't exist any more, as if he was nothing more than a ghost. Several hot angry teas escaped as__Eomer threw down the oats and angrily kicked the wall. He turned towards the carefully stacked saddles and saw red. Eomer threw his body weight onto a pile causing it to tip sending the carefully crafted saddles to fall. Eomer growled as he picked one__up and threw it with as much might as he could muster across the room.

He stopped, panting as he observed the mess he had created. Saddles were strewn everywhere. Most of the saddles covered with scuffs. Eomer sank to the floor breathing heavily as his emotions calmed. For the first time__since his mother had died, Eomer was not filled with warring emotions. He still grieved for his parents, but for the first time since their death, he was calm.

"What in the name of all that is good is going on in 'ere?" grumbled__a voice.

Eomer looked up to see Fram, the one in command of the King's stables. Fram paused and looked around the tack room, his face void of any emotion. Eomer cringed, ready for the verbal lashing he was about to receive, but it never came.

"Well lad," Fram said with his harsh voice, "It is a good thing you hate your__lessons so much, this will take you a while to clean up."

The next day found Eomer furiously polishing the many saddles he had damaged the day before.

"Psst."

Eomer's head jerked around trying to see where the sound had come from, he inwardly groaned as he saw Lyrian peeking over the short wall.

"Come on," she whispered beckoning very enthusiastically.

Eomer looked up at her in disbelief, "I have work to do," he growled, scowling at the girl.

Lyrian smiled at this, "Fram is__up at the Hall eating, he'll be asleep an hour after that, come on before its too late!"

Eomer paused for a minute thinking about the consequences if he was seen away from his current punishment.

"Come on!" Lyrian mouthed jumping away from the wall and scurrying down a row of stalls.

Eomer reluctantly stood and followed her out the stables and to the very border of Edoras where acres upon acres of land were set aside for the horses.

"Look," Lyrian said pointing towards an incredibly majestic horse that was galloping across the field in a small herd of other horses. The horse in the front of the herd ran, his head held high and his muscles rippling as the ground trembled beneath him; it was Arroch.

Lyrian looked back towards Eomer with a wide smile that never seemed to leave her face, before she climbed the tall fence and leaned in towards the pasture.

Eomer remained behind the fence watching in awe at the magnificent creature galloping before him before he found himself drawn to the fence next to Lyrian.

The two sat in silence, watching the herd of horses gallop through the pasture, Arroch tossing his head in pure ecstasy__of running through an open field. Lyrian let out a shrill whistle and Arroch turned his head towards the two small people standing on the fence.

"Impressive is he not?" she asked in looking towards Eomer who had not yet taken his eyes from the giant horse.

"Yes," said Eomer wistfully as Arroch gracefully__cantered towards the two.

Lyrian reached out her hand to rub Arroch's nose.

"Here," she said grabbing Eomer's reluctant hand and putting it towards Arroch.

"He's not going to bite you I promise."

Eomer looked Arroch in the eye, the great horse meeting Eomer's gaze as he felt a wave of calmness__flowing over him. A small smile snuck its way across Eomer's face.

Lyrian softly chuckled as she watched__the exchange between Eomer and Arroch.

"You should smile more," she said softly.

Eomer looked at her his smile slowly fading_**.**_

"You don't look so mean now."

Eomer almost smiled again before she jumped down and looked back at him, "You might want to hurry back to the stables, Fram should be wandering back there any time now."

Eomer jumped off the fence and walked back to the stables yet as he looked back to the pasture, his step was a little lighter than when he had walked down to it.

Theoden observed his hall with much interest that night during supper. Times were harsh and the shadow of evil was spreading, but at that moment, his hall was filled with laughter and light. Eomer sat close to his sister who was talking to him excitedly about what she had__seen during the day. He noted that although Eomer was completely disinterested with his sister's story, his eyes held something other than grief.

A burst of laughter came from the front of the hall as Lyrian ran forward trying to beat__Theodred to the King. Theoden watched with interest as Eomer's head jerked up towards the two. He noted a small almost half smile at Lyrian's attempt to tackle__Theodred to the ground. It wasn't much, but Eomer was starting to heal.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Eomer quickly thrust his sword up to block the parry towards his head. He grunted with the effort and glared at his opponent, he had not thought this person capable of the strength they were now exhibiting. With a growl he shoved the sword away and immediately charged towards the other swordsman who danced around him with a cheeky smile. Eomer's brows furrowed, he was quickly tiring of the cocky attitude of his opponent, yet he knew that he was no match for the swordsman's light step, this was painfully obvious. A wide grin spread across his face as his opponent charged towards danced closer to him. Eomer moved his foot just as the opponent came close to him and threw the opponent to the ground. The shocked swordsman dropped their sword and lay trying to catch their breath as Eomer pointed his sword towards their neck.

"Do you yield?" he asked a confident smile on his face.

Lyrian glared at him, and kicked his feet out from under him and sat on his chest, brandishing a dagger towards his throat, "Never."

Eomer looked down at what she was brandishing at his throat and back up at her, "That is a stick you found on the ground!"

Lyrian laughed as she jumped off of him and helped to pull him up, "But it _would _have been a real dagger had I actually been fighting."

Eomer looked down at her, even though she had grown over the past five years, he was still a head taller. He scoffed as he picked up his practice sword from the ground throwing Lyrian hers, "I a real battle I would not have held back-"

"Well," Lyrian interrupted with a loud sigh, they had had this argument more times than she could count, "In a real battle, I would have shot you down before you pulled out your sword."

Eomer chuckled and rolled his eyes, "I worry for any enemy that finds himself at the wrong end of your arrow. Besides, had you not tripped me, I may have beaten you this time.

Eomer scoffed at this as he threw his sword towards the armory nodding at the smithy, "You hardly know how to use a sword," he said teasingly.

Lyrian tossed her sword up in the air and caught it by the hilt, "Sure I do," she said tossing it in a circle again, she looked at it for a moment studying it before looking up at Eomer, brows furrowed in concentration, "pointy end goes in the bad guy right?"

Eomer shoved her with a grin as he marched up the hill towards the main hall. Lyrian ran to the smithy and plopped her sword on the pile of the training swords before running to catch up to Eomer.

Theoden walked as he often did when Theodred was on patrol, around the outer corridors of Meduseled when he noticed Eomer and Lyrian walking through the heart of Edoras. Theoden smiled at the change Lyrian had brought out in Eomer. While he still exhibited the explosive temper of his father, Lyrian, more often than not, was there to bring him back to reality. The two had truly become inseperable over the past years. While more often than not, the two were being punished with extra work in the stables from their adventures of mischief, Theoden would not have had it any other way.

* * *

The loud thundering of hooves made Eomer look towards the gate of Edoras to see Theodred galloping into the city with his eored behind him.

"Theodred!" Lyrian called out running after the horses until she caught up with him.

Eomer followed quickly not wanting to miss a word of what his cousin was about to say.

Lyrian stood rubbing the nose of Theodred's horse, Brego, "What news have you heard Theodred?" she asked, though most of her conversation was directed towards the horse.

Eomer noticed Theodred's dark and concerned expression,"Theodred?" he asked.

"Not now, Eomer," Theodred said not even looking at the two before rushing towards Meduseled.

Eomer watched him go and turned to Lyrian who shrugged and took Brego to the stables to give him a good grooming.

Eomer followed closely behind Theodred, "What news of the Mark?" he asked as they started up the steps.

Theodred cleared his throat, "It worsens, orcs are traveling further from Mordor, wrecking havoc in their wake. I fear that there is a greater purpose for all this, these orc attacks are not simply for pillaging sake."

Eomer paused at the door of the hall as he pondered what his cousin had said. If Theodred was correct, they were nearing the brink of war with a truly formidable enemy.

Theoden entered the Hall his arms wide in greeting to his son. Hama, ever faithful, followed closely behind.

"Father," Theodred said embracing Theoden, it had been a year since the two had seen each other, "I do not bring happy news."

Theoden immediately sobered, "The orcs have spread," he confirmed, "Tell me everything you know."

Eomer plopped himself down on a bench listening with rapt attention as Theodred explained the increasing number and brutality of the orcs.

Theoden sighed, things had truly worsened over the last year, something was brewing in the east, yet something was also brewing in the west.

He turned to Theodred, "Our defences are not prepared for total war," Theoden said glumly, "We simply do not have the men."

"What of-" Theodred started.

"They have agreed," Theoden sighed, "Gilraen will arrive in a year and live with you at Helms Deep."

Eomer's head snapped towards Theodred and his uncle.

Theodred nodded solemly, "That is good then," he said plainly, "We will have extra aid to our boarders."

Theoden looked towards his son with pity, "Do not be so glum Theodred. You will learn to love each other as your mother and I did."

Theoden left with Hama to his quarters where the two were no doubt discussing the worsening situation with the orcs.

Eomer walked towards his cousin who still stood with a dazed look on his face. Theodred, upon hearing Eomer approach him, turned to the young man.

"Would you mind telling-"

"Oh no," Eomer interrupted, "That is _your _ news to share and your wrath to suffer."

Theodred grimaced as the doors slammed open as Lyrian rushed into the hall, her face glowing from sprinting from the stables. She looked at Eomer who motioned to Theodred with a glum look on his face. Eomer knew that Lyrian was going to be extremely upset with what Theodred was about to tell her.

Theodred looked at Lyrian with a forced smile, "Rejoice with me sister," he said, eyeing her suspicious glance, "I am to be married."

Lyrian laughed, thinking at first that the whole conversation was a joke that she was not completely privy to, "That is wonderful Theodred," she said cautiously, "may I ask who this lucky woman is?"

Theodred laughed softly, "Her name is Gilraen," he said wary of Lyrian's growing disapproval, "I am told she is a beautiful and well mannered woman."

"You are told?" Lyrian seethed.

Eomer looked towards Lyrian, he knew that while she did not show it, her temper was as hot as his, and she was incredibly angry towards Theodred.

Theodred opened his mouth as if to say something yet he knew it was pointless. Eomer grasped her shoulder trying to calm her down, yet Lyrian shoved him away as she stormed out of the hall. The very air seemed to crackle in her wake.

Theodred looked towards Eomer with sadness in his eyes yet Eomer could only shrug, "You knew she would not be pleased."

"Some of us do not have the luxury of choosing our life partners," Theodred tried to explain.

"Telling her that will only anger her further," Eomer said almost smiling at the difficulty Theodred was having with Lyrian. For once, it was not Eomer on the other side of her anger.

"I will talk with her," Eomer said, trying to comfort Theodred, "But that does not mean she will accept your marriage any better."

Theodred looked at Eomer with relief placing his hand on Eomer's shoulder, "You are a braver man than I."

Eomer brushed him off, "Has he come to a decision yet?"

Theodred shook his head as the two walked towards the outer walk of Meduseld, "The young men are always so eager to fight in a battle they know nothing about."

Eomer looked at Theodred, his fists clenched, "Do not lecture me on this Theodred, you know more than any how much I need to avenge my parents' death."

Theodred turned towards Eomer, he had grown up over the past five years, he was much taller than when he had last seen him and he was starting to look like the strong men of the Edoras; broad shouldered and muscled. His eyes however, held the hardships and grief that only an old king should hold.

Theodred sighed, "You ride out with me as soon as my men are rested. When you have proven yourself, and when I deem you are ready, you shall resume your father's old post as the Third Marshall."

Eomer could not keep the grin from spreading across his face; his time had come, he had trained with Lyrian for so many years, yet now, he was given a new purpose. His grin faltered; Lyrian.

Theodred noticed this and turned to stand in front of him, "Eomer, she took the news of my engagement harshly, you would be wise to break this to her gently as she will be losing a very close friend."

Eomer nodded. He had always dreamed of one day leaving Meduseld with his own eored, yet he never truly thought of what he would be leaving behind.

* * *

Eomer carefully entered the stable. The moonlight streamed through the ceiling and created a blue like glow on everything, The horses throughout the stables were quiet, only the soft shuffling of feet and shallow breathing could be heard. He knew exactly where he would find Lyrian, that wasn't the question at all. The question was rather, should he go to her, or giver her time. The quick snuffling of her soft cries changed his mind and he walked slowly towards Arroch's stall and leaned up against the door.

Lyrian was resting her head on Arroch's shoulder who stood carefully and glared at Eomer as if to threaten him if he should hurt Lyrian.

"Fram said that he found the perfect horse for Arroch," he said softly, "he said whatever Arroch sires is yours to keep."

Lyrian sniffed and turned her head towards Eomer, "he _found_ the perfect mate for him," she mocked, "neither of them has any choice in the matter."

"Lyrian," Eomer said calmly, understanding no why she had run from the hall, "You know that is different."

She shook her head and fiddled with Arroch's mane, "Is that all women are good for?" she asked hotly.

Eomer looked at her seriously, "You know that is not the case," he stated, "I know first hand that some women are able to greatly outshoot me," he said with a small smile trying to shake her dreary mood.

Lyrian walked closer to the door where Eomer was leaning, "But it is as you said, there are no women in the eoreds," she said looking him in the eye, " As soon as I come of age you know what will happen, my father and TheodenKing will be looking to find a suitable match so that I can strengthen their ties with some distant kingdom, where I will be forced to wear dresses every day and abide by court etiquite. I will never be able to gallop through an open field as long as I am there."

Eomer looked at her with genuine sadness in his eyes, "That will not be your fate Lyrian, Theoden would not force you to marry anyone you did not want to-"

"I know he won't," Lyrian interrupted, "because I will never marry, I will remain free until the day I die."

Eomer smiled and opened the door of the stall taking her out, "You will be the shieldmaiden of Rohan. All will cower before your presence," he said with a mocking bow.

Lyrian hit him on the shoulder, none to gently, "Twat," she chuckled through her tears.

Eomer laughed as well, but sobered as he remembered what he had yet to tell her.

"Lyrian," he started softly, knowing he was about to trouble her further, "Theodred-, I am to leave," he said falteringly, watching Lyrian carefully, "to resume my fathers duties in the East-fold."

Lyrian nodded, her face void of tears, "It is as you dreamed then," she said simply, though genuinely happy for him, "You will be a very good Marshal."

Eomer smiled, relaxing slightly glad that she was not upset, "I hope I am more than a _good _ Marshal."

Lyrian smiled and looked to the ground before she looked back to Eomer, her eyes filled with worry for what lay ahead, "Promise me you'll come back?" she asked softly.

Eomer soberd, "Of course."

Lyrian nodded, somewhat satisfied with his answer. Eomer gave her one last look before turning to walk from the stables, he knew Lyrian well enough that she like to be alone with her emotions more often than sharing them with someone.

"Eomer!" Lyrian called out, as he was halfway out of the stable.

He turned barely able to make her out in the dim lighting, but enough to see a slight smile.

"Remember," she said, "the pointy end, goes in the orc."

Eomer smiled and laughed. Life would go on.

* * *

Please Review! The more interest I see in this story, the faster I will upload and edit the rest of my chapters.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Lyrian grunted as she pushed the heavy plow forward, "Get moving you brute!" she spat towards the great ox of a horse that was supposed to be pulling the plow.

She sagged against the plow and wiped the sweat from her face, effectively smearing dirt across her forehead. She squinted in the sunlight as she looked around at the surrounding fields. Things were harder at Edoras than they had been when she was a child. The farms were struggling with all the men gone to fight the orcs and most of the work was being placed on the women and children. The women of Edoras were not ones to shy away from work, yet with no relief from the return of their husbands. Many were starting to fall captive to sheer exhaustion. Lyrian helped anyone she could, hence her current situation with the infernal plow, yet even she was starting to tire, though she would never show it.

"Lyrian?" a soft voice called.

She turned to see a very small girl carry a very large bucket of water, "Amis," Lyrian said smiling fondly as she drank from the ladle, "you are a hero."

Amis giggled, her blue eyes sparkling as she waddled away with the large bucket towards her two brothers.

With renewed vigor she grasped the reins again, "Alright Bema," she said, strongly, "This field is not going to finish itself."

She urged him forward and pushed again on the heavy plow. All of a sudden Bema lunged forward jerking the plow from Lyrian's hands and causing her to fall flat on her face. She angrily spit out a mouthful of dirt.

"Bema!" she shouted pounding her fists in the dirt as she jumped up to scold him.

"What do we have here," a snide voice hissed from the edge of the field.

Lyrian looked up from the ground to see Grima leering down at her from his horse.

"A Lady of the court rolling in the dirt with the peasants?" he hissed, "it is a wonder Theoden deems you fit to remain within the Hall."

Lyrian stood up, not even bothering to wipe the dirt from her filthy clothes, a snide smile across her face, "It is a wonder, dear Grima, how anyone sees fit to be within your presence. But alas, we must all deal with what fate has given us," she said hotly, "Men are short these days, Amfelice needed my help."

The rest of the workers in the fields had paused and were now watching Lyrian and Grima closely. It was well known the young woman's dislike for the king's advisor, yet it still shocked many to see her attitude towards him.

Grima laughed softly shaking his head, "Your words hold much passion," he said, "Best watch they do not betray you one day."

Lyrian glared at him as he and his following trotted towards the gates of Edoras. Letting out a loud curse she kicked the ground closest to her spraying dirt everywhere.

"Amfelice!" she called, running to the edge of the field, "I have to go, with Grima back Eowyn-"

The round-faced woman smiled at Lyrian, her eyes caring towards the panting young woman in front of her, "Lyrian, you have already done too much! Really, you should get some rest," she said placing her hand on Lyrian's shoulder.

Lyrian laughed brushing her off, "I will rest when you do," she said sending a knowing glance towards the older woman as she picked up a bundle from the side of the field and ran towards Meduseld.

She had grown suspicious of Grima as of late. He had always lurked about Edoras with his mysterious following of men behind him, yet lately, he seemed even more suspicious, with his lengthy visits to the wizard. She had noticed the snide glances he sent towards both her and Eowyn; she couldn't leave the girl alone. Eowyn prided herself on being a fierce warrior like her brother, yet she lacked much skill in any form of defense.

Lyrian charged up the steps slightly out of breath as she reached the large doors to the hall.

"Lyrian? What has happened to you today?" a warm voice called out in greeting.

"Nothing out of the ordinary father," she smiled turning to give him a fond kiss on the cheek, "Amfelice needed help, and Bema was being his usual self."  
Hama smiled, his daughter had grown into an incredibly independent woman, her mother would be proud, "Be sure to clean yourself up before Grima sees you," he said opening the door for her.

She waved her father off and ran into the large hall and through the doors leading into the noble's chambers.

"Lyrian!"

Lyrian stopped immediately she had been hoping to avoid this.

"Lyrian," scolded Eowyn, "how is it that you were perfectly clean this morning, and now you look like you have been traveling the world on foot for years?"

Lyrian sighed as Eowyn continued talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise when Eowyn started talking. She simply allowed herself to be dragged to Eowyn's room where she was scrubbed down until she glowed and shoved into a simple blue dress.

"Lyrian, you look marvelous as you always do," Eowyn commented, "If you dressed like this you would have your pick of the men in Edoras."

"Now why would I want that?" Lyrian commented wrinkling her nose in distaste as she tried to maneuver herself out the door fumbling with the skirts around her legs.

Eowyn smiled mischievously as the two walked towards the main hall, "Eomer is returning today," she said carefully watching Lyrian's reaction.

Lyrian, knowing where this conversation was headed took it upon herself to quickly change the topic.

"He would be very disappointed with how you have been handling the bow," she said, "When was the last time you actually practiced?"

Eowyn playfully shoved her aside as the two reached the Golden Hall.

"Eowyn!" called Theoden from the center of the room where he had been speaking with Grima, "I have not seen you since yesterday morning,"

Lyrian stood back as Eowyn went to greet Theoden, not wanting to interfere. Theoden had changed over the past few years, he rarely called her out anymore, in fact he rarely paid her any attention at all.

"It is rather pleasing to see you dressed properly," Grima hissed in her ear.

Lyrian stiffened immediately she had not noticed him behind her, "It is unfortunate to see you are still here," she mumbled quietly.

Grima came closer to her, much too close.

"Still as rebellious as ever," he said, placing his hand on her back before sliding around her, "you will have to learn to control your temper," he said simply as he walked back to the king.

Lyrian shuddered as he left her, not many things in this world scared her, yet Grima Wormtongue was becoming one of the few.

"Relax!" said Lyrian as she lounged on the fence of the shooting range.

"How can I relax?" Eowyn spat back, frustrated at her lack of success, "this is not exactly a relaxing feat."

Lyrian rolled her eyes and took one last bite of her apple before she threw it to the ground.

"Like this," she said roughly pushing Eowyn's shoulders down so they were no longer scrunched against her ears.

Eowyn glared at Lyrian as she focused once again on the target standing fifty paces away from her, taunting her to shoot.

Eowyn took a deep breath, trying desperately to focus all her energy on the red 'x' painted on the straw mound, and let go of the arrow.

Lyrian watched the arrow fly through the air before it landed in the target.

"Not bad," she shrugged, walking over to pull it out, "You hit it this time!"

Eowyn sagged, she was becoming more and more discouraged with her lack of success in archery. Lyrian made it look so simple.

"Hey," said Lyrian putting a hand on her shoulder, "It takes more than a month to learn, you are doing well," she said honestly.

Eowyn gave a small smile before she froze seeing something past Lyrian's shoulder.

"What is it?" Lyrian asked as she turned to see what was behind her.

The King and Grima were making their way down around the walls of Meduseld.

Eowyn sighed, "Something is not quite right."

Lyrian said nothing, her thoughts flashing back to her previous encounter with Grima, yet she could not agree with Eowyn more, something was not right.

"I do not trust him," Eowyn said softly.

Lyrian shook her head, unseen to Eowyn. She wished to share her true opinion of Grima Wormtongue, but she did not wish to worry Eowyn any more than she already was.

"If the king trusts him, that is enough," she said plainly wrapping and arm around Eowyn's shoulder.

Eowyn looked up to Lyrian, and was shocked at what she saw. Lyrian was usually steadfast in her emotions, never letting any show. Yet now, for the first time since Eowyn had ever met her, Lyrian's eyes held a very foreign emotion.

Eomer reined his horse to a stop at the foot of Meduseld. It had been a year since he had seen the Golden Hall and it had never looked so welcoming. Eomer had changed much over the years, standing more than six feet tall with golden hair. His success in the battlefield was well known to every villager in Rohan; his fierceness in battle matched only by that of his Uncle and cousin.

Eomer slid off his horse pulling his helmet from his head and looked for his sister. He did not have to look for long as a young woman flung herself in his arms.

"Eomer!" Eowyn cri ed hugging her brother.

Eomer laughed, he had missed his sister, yet there was someone else that he had also missed he was not seeing. As his sister explained what had transpired in the court over the past year, and of she managed to get Lyrian to finally teach her how to spar.

At the mention of Lyrian, Eomer looked once again around the crowded square, "Where is Lyrian anyway?" he asked.

Eowyn smiled, "She is probably helping Fram again," she said nodding towards the stable, "Arroch's filly is…difficult. Lyrian is trying to break him."

Eomer smirked, "This I will have to see."

Eowyn led her brother to the stables still telling him all of what had happened over the year, the dresses she had made for Lyrian who was now starting to dress like a lady of the court.

Eomer however was slightly distracted by the loud shouts coming from the training grounds behind the stable. As soon as he rounded the stables corner and saw the chaos that was ensuing, he could barely contain his laughter.

Five stable boys were trying to put a saddle on an incredibly magnificent horse, who wanted nothing to do with the boys around him. The horse was dark brown, with a bright blaze down his face and four socks, muscles rippling like the ancient mearas. The horse kept running in circles as they chased him with a saddle. Eomer did not see Lyrian at first until she fell to the ground by the rearing of the horse and the boys jumped out of the way.

"That," Eowyn said motioning to the horse, "is Lightfoot. Lyrian's new horse."

"Imbecile!" Lyrian yelled.

Lyrian stood up and shoved the boy who was responsible for holding the horse's halter out of the way. Her hair, longer than Eomer had remembered, was tousled and had bits of hay in it. Her face as well as her clothes, were dirty from the hard work she had no doubt been doing the entire day.

"Before you completely spook him of ever wearing a saddle," Lyrian shoved the boys away and grabbed the horse's harness and pulling his head to her looked him straight in the eye, "You _will _listen to me," she said threateningly.

The horse stood as still as any horse could as Lyrian quickly placed a saddle on his back. With the agility of a well-practiced horseman, Lyrian pulled herself up in the saddle.

"Lyrian," Fram called out from his post near the fence, "You need to lunge 'er first!"

Lyrian led the horse in a very haphazard circle around the edge of the fence. Eomer watched in the awe he always held her horsemanship as the unruly foal quieted down enough for her to bring her around the fence several times. Before she stopped in front of Eomer with a wide smile.

"How does she look?" she asked knowing exactly what Eomer was about to say.

Eomer chuckled, "She fits you,"

Lyrian nodded sliding off Lightfoot, "Fastest horse in the stables," she said brushing off as much of the dirt from her clothes as she could, "As soon as I can get her to mind having me on her back, she will be an amazing charger."

Eomer smiled pulling several strands of straw from her hair, "It is good to see that not everything has changed."

Lyrian laughed as she pulled the saddle from Lightfoot and sent her to the pastures to be with the rest of the eored's horses.

"Many things have changed," she said quietly looking around to see if Grima was anywhere near her.

Eomer noticed this and pulled her aside, "Lyrian?" he asked his temper already turning on anyone causing distress to her.

Lyrian spotted Grima bowing snidely to the king on the steps of Meduseld and jerked her head towards him.

"Grima?" Eomer asked, "He has been my uncle's counselor for years."

"Then something strange has happened to him," Lyrian said, "He stalks about Edoras, hiding in the shadows. He is always watching me."

Eomer's brows furrowed as he looked back towards Grima who at that moment looked towards the two talking and sneered, "He has always been surly," he said though he did not believe the words himself.

Lyrian looked at him, though her eyes were filled with concern she desperately tried to change the topic, "I hear tell of a very fierce eored that travels these lands, you have not come across them have you?"

Eomer smiled, "So you have heard then? The Marshall of the Eastern Mark has finally returned."

"I am proud of you," she said though Eomer could see the slight jealousy in her eyes.

"Lyrian!" a small voice called out.

Eomer turned to see a young girl run towards Lyrian who had since turned and bent down, arms wide to receive the girl in a fond embrace.

"My brother has come home!" the young girl said.

Lyrian smiled sadly, "that is wonderful news Amis!" she said as she placed Amis back on the ground and immediately sped off towards her brother who was unsaddling his horse.

Eomer gave Lyrian a questioning look.

"Her father died a year ago, and her brother, Gleothain, was sent to replace him. It has been years since she has seen him at all."

Eomer nodded as his thoughts went back to the fateful battle with the orcs where he had lost five good men.

"Too many soldiers are not returning home Eomer," she said softly watching as families were being reunited, "so few are left to tend to the fields, people are beginning to loose hope that things will get better."

Eomer noted the sadness in her voice and did his best to redirect their conversation.

"What of you?" he asked, "Eowyn told me quite proudly that she managed to find you a few dresses," he smirked.

Lyrian sighed and rolled her eyes, "I do not trust Grima as far as I could throw him. My place is with Eowyn, in the court. As long as I must spend time there," she grimaced, "I have to dress the part."

Eomer glanced at her with a sideways grin as they climbed the steps to the Golden Hall, "I never thought I would see the day when Lyrian, shieldmaiden of Rohan, gives up her sword for a thimble."

Lyrian snorted a very unladylike chuckle, "Please Eomer, if you think for a second that I have neglected my training, you will be sorely mistaken."

Eomer laughed as he nodded at the guards at the door and entered the hall. Something about the hall seemed off, but he could not place his finger on it.

"Eomer," his uncle called from the great wooden throne.

Lyrian nodded Eomer forward though she remained barely at the entrance of the hall.

"What news of the mark?" Theoden asked bluntly.

Eomer looked at Theoden in confusion, there was welcome in his voice, and yet when Eomer looked closely, there seemed to be very little concern over the state of the mark. In fact, Theoden's face seemed void of any emotion at all.

Eomer drew himself up to his full height and stood before Theoden as the strong Marshall he was, "Orcs are moving freely across our lands in greater numbers than we have ever seen. I fear they are banding together. For what I am not certain, but if we do not attack and eliminate them before they become too big a threat, I fear for the safety of Rohan."

Theoden seemed to ponder this, and for a moment Eomer recognized the Theoden he used to know.

"Why worry when there is no cause for it?" a sly voice hissed from behind Theoden.

Eomer noticed with great concern as Lyrian's jaw clenched at the sight of Grima Wormtongue as he oozed from the shadows.

"These orcs have made no direct threat to Rohan yet have they?"

"They are plundering through outlying villages, it is only a matter of time before they turn to our-"

"Those are small villages, not even within our borders and yet you are this concerned?" Grima said sidling up to Theoden and looking at Eomer with disdain.

Theoden seemed slightly confused at the moment, and deep in thought yet he said nothing to hinder Grima's words.

"Why wage war against those whom have yet to directly attack us?"

"It is only a matter of time!" Eomer said through gritted teeth, his fists balled so tight that those around him could hear his knuckles crack; his jaw flexing under intense strain as Eomer tried valiantly to refrain from punching his uncle's wormish advisor across the floor.

"We cannot risk open war," Theoden said, "Theodred and his eored have stationed themselves at the fords, perhaps you should spend less time pursuing orcs beyond our boundaries and more time on our borders like Theodred."

"A wise suggestion my liege," Grima said patronizingly to the king as he turned to Eomer, "That would certainly be more beneficial than your incessant warmongering."

Eomer's jaw clenched again, yet he said nothing, only nodding in acknowledgement of Theoden's words and turned from the hall, barely able to control himself any longer. He stormed out of the hall barely registering Lyrian's hurried footsteps as she followed him to the stables.

"Eomer!" she called rushing to keep up with him, very glad she was still wearing her stable clothes and not the restrictive skirts Eowyn was determined to get her to wear.

"Eomer you cannot leave!"

Eomer turned to her, fire burning in his eyes, "If I am to stay one more hour, I will go after Grima myself."

Lyrian was slightly taken aback by his ferocious temper yet she was not silenced for long, "Listen to yourself! You only just returned back home and you are leaving with hardly a farewell to your sister all because Grima has upset you."

Eomer lunged towards her, "They are blind to everything in the Mark, their ignorance will cause many deaths. Grima is telling the king too many lies-"

"You think I do not see that?" Lyrian said, her voice rising as well and her angry temper matching that of Eomer's with no difficulty, "I see him everyday. Everyday I am forced to resist lashing out at him, yet I do so for the safety of your sister."

Eomer looked at her, the fire in his eyes slowly lessening at the desperate look in her eyes.

"He is always there, always lurking in the shadows and I can do nothing against him. I do not know what he is doing to the king, yet there is nothing I can do to stop him. All I can do is keep him from Eowyn."

Eomer looked towards the ground regretting his outburst towards Lyrian, "I have to go," he said more softly this time, "Theodred is stationed at the Fords and if I am not constantly watching our western borders, the orcs will slip through."

Lyrian refused to make eye contact with him, he lifted her chin up and she reluctantly met his eyes. Eomer's temper almost reared its ugly head again at the mix of emotions that lay in her eyes, the most prominent being fear.

"Watch Grima," he said calmly, "If you learn that he is threatening the king in anyway, send for me."

Lyrian nodded, accepting her new duty.

"Lyrian," Eomer continued, "should he ever threaten you, send for me at once, I will come no matter what. I am certain most of the Mark would follow."

Lyrian gave him a disbelieving smile, "I doubt threats from Grima would be a significant enough enemy for the Muster of Rohan."

Eomer smiled glad to see she was not as hopeless as she was before, "You do not give yourself enough credit. Most of the Edoras is in your debt for the work you have done. The people love you Lyrian, do not think you are alone against Grima."

Lyrian nodded, somewhat shocked by his words.

Eomer looked at her one last time a twinge of guilt of leaving so quickly yet his mind was made up, if Theoden was not going to order him against the orcs, he would take matters into his own hands to ensure the safety of the Mark.

He nodded his head in a slight bow to Lyrian and turned towards the stables where his men were already waiting as if they sensed their captain's distress.

Lyrian slowly walked back to the Golden Hall. Despite Eomer's comforting words, she felt more alone now than she had before Eomer had come.

Eomer looked one last time towards the Golden Hall. Lyrian stood at the front looking out over Edoras. With a final wave, Eomer and his eored galloped away from the fort.


	6. Chapter 5

**Quick author's note on the bottom, please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Lyrian sighed, and turned to see a laughing Eowyn run past her followed by several laughing children. Lyrian chuckled. It was not often that you saw anyone in the kingdom laughing anymore, things had changed so much so that the sound of laughter was almost foreign in the dismal fort. Several women turned in the direction of the children, surprised almost that there was laughter at all.

Lyrian brushed the hair form her face and followed in Eowyn's direction. The past five years had taken their hold on the kingdom, and on those who lived inside. Many who had family elsewhere were leaving to escape Grima's wrath which was widespread and foul and hung over the kingdom like a dark cloud.

"Amis!" she called to the young girl, now just beginning to grow into a young woman.

The young girl turned, her eyes were red as if she had been crying for days, "What troubles you Amis?" Lyrian asked.

The girl looked up to the woman before her, the woman who had been her guardian angle since she was born, the woman who she almost trusted more than her mother.

"I had a dream last night," she said softly, her breath shaky, "the world was dark, so dark that I could barely see the outlines of the great hills. An evil mass of darkness was covering the land, sweeping everything away and left in its trail, destruction and death. I saw an eored galloping towards it, swords raised as their war cries echoed across the plains. I saw my brother, his eyes shone with a fire like I have never seen. I called out to him, I do not know what came over me, but I wanted him near me, to protect me from the evil. I reached out to him yet when my hand was close to his, he turned to dust, his eyes sad and lost," she looked towards Lyrian with fresh tears in her eyes, "I think my brother is dead," she said so softly Lyrian barely heard her.

Lyrian unsure of what to do or say, drew the girl in close, "It was but a dream," she said softly as the young girl wept in her arms, "There is always hope that he still lives."

Amis wiping her eyes pulled away from Lyrian with a sad smile, "Will there ever be a time when we no longer have to live off hope?"

Eowyn ran up to Lyrian slightly breathless but her cheeks were flushed with mirth, "Scouts have seen riders in the distance!" she said excitedly carefully gauging Lyrian's reaction, "They are still several leagues out, but should arrive within the afternoon. Do you think my brother has decided to return?"

Lyrian smiled, though it was a shallow one, at the young woman's bright disposition, "One can only hope," she said dramatically, "his lordship has not paid a visit to his dear sister in over three years. I would say it is about time he stopped to see you."

Eowyn rolled her eyes, it was not quite the response she had hoped yet for now it would have to do.

"Riders!" a voice called, "Riders of the Mark approaching!"

"Quickly!" exclaimed Eowyn grabbing hold of Lyrian's hand, "you would not want Eomer to see you in that!"

Lyrian looked down at her worn brown dress. She avoided dressing in costly gowns as much as possible and she had no idea why it would matter at all what Eomer would see her in but followed Eowyn nonetheless. At times such as this, it was best to simply follow the young woman than try to resist.

* * *

Eomer stormed through the gates of the fort. Firefoot leading the rest of the eored, head held high and stomped the ground into submission with each stride. The rest of the eored followed in a thundering of hooves before coming to a stop at the foot of the hill. Eomer looked up to the Hall hoping to see either his sister or Lyrian, but saw no one. Not even Theoden and his trusty dog Grima.

Eomer slid from the back of Firefoot who stomped restlessly and tossed his head. Eomer gently stroked his nose and looked around the usual bustling town. Usually upon his return there was a crowd of people waiting to welcome his men home, now there was only a few wives greeting their husbands, overall the town seemed deserted.

Fram came hobbling up to greet Eomer, "It has been a long time Eomer, " he grunted taking Firefoot's reins, "perhaps next time you could come back a bit earlier, you would get her out of the way."

Eomer looked to Fram in confusion, "Is my sister causing trouble again?" he asked worriedly, the last time he had visited, she had been causing mischief in the grand stables, something that Fram would not tolerate from any person.

Fram shook his head, "She visits less than you do. It is Lyrian. She never leaves her horse."

Eomer smiled, it sounded right, Lyrian would much rather live in the stables than be bothered to occupy the Hall, "I will discuss your concern with her."

Fram grunted as he led Firefoot to the stables.

Eomer walked quickly and with purpose towards the Golden Hall. He was here strictly to speak with Theoden. He nodded curtly to Hama who slowly opened the door.

The Hall that greeted Eomer was not what he had expected. Everything in the Golden Hall seemed to have paled over the past few years that he had been gone. Eomer was distracted from the new gloom of the hall as his sister made her presence known.

"Eomer!" she said happily rushing to greet him, "It has been too long."

Eomer smiled the first smile he had in a long time as he embraced his sister. It was good that in a world full of hatred and evil, his sister remained pure. Eowyn held him at an arms distance as she looked at him closely.

"You've grown!" she said, no doubt acknowledging the fact that he did in every way look like a man of Edoras now.

His blond hair was held back away from a proud face that now held a well grown in beard. His shoulders were broad and he stood with the stature of a man who had fought in many battles.

"It is good to see you again Eomer," Eowyn said meaning every word.

A swirl of blue cloth caught Eomer's attention. He walked away from his sister as Lyrian made her own entrance.

Eomer frowned slightly, it did not escape is notice that she seemed drawn in every way, and that her dress seemed to be cinched tighter than it should have been, yet to him, after not having seen her in over three years, she could not have been more beautiful.

"Lyrian," he said smiling widely, "I trust you have kept yourself out of trouble?"

Lyrian flashed him a rare smile that Eowyn was quite aware of, "I have done what I can to keep myself and Eowyn busy these past years, though I will say that our deeds have drifted dangerously close to mischief," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Eomer smiled, missing her company now more than ever, "I see you have not changed since I last saw you."

"On the contrary Eomer," Eowyn said joining her brother and Lyrian, "She has become quite the adversary on the training grounds, her sword ship I think might stand a chance at besting even you."

Lyrian shook her head, never one for compliments or any attention in a flattering sense, "Nonsense, I may have improved slightly, but I still favor my bow."

Eomer was about to remark when a wheezing voice interrupted their conversation.

"Who…. enters my hall?" Theoden questioned from the shadows of his thrones.

Lyrian at once melted away to the shadows, not wanting to be apart of the frustrating conversation she knew Eomer was going to have.

She rushed to her room where she stripped of the frivolous dress. She never fully understood why it was that Eowyn would dress her in such fine things. She paused however as she was pulling on a pair of breeches and tunic; she had missed Eomer, more than she would have liked to admit to anyone lest of all herself and she could not ignore the fact that he had turned into a fine rider of the Mark.

Lyrian shook her head. It was not like her to think such things, besides, she was still determined to live her life void of the imprisonment that women seemed fit to force upon her. She finished pulling up a pair of worn boots, Theodred's old riding boots to be specific, and crept out of Meduseld, unnoticed by everyone.

She hurried through the fort until she reached the busy stables that were now full of Eomer's eored bringing horses in and out, re-shoeing them, fixing broken mail or polishing their saddles. Lyrian greeted many of them as they crossed her path. It was a relief to see so many of the men she had befriended in her youth during her training alive and well.

"Girl!" a harsh voice called out, "I would 'a thought that with his lordship returned I would 'a gotten rid o' you for a' least an afternoon."

Lyrian smiled, "Fram, when will you ever learn? I will always come to see my pride and joy."

Fram snorted, "Well your pride 'n joy has been terrorizin' my stable boys, maybe, you migh' wan' a teach her some manners?"

Lyrian chuckled reaching Lightfoot's stall, "Maybe your stable boys need to learn the proper way to calm her."

Fram shook his head; it was hopeless.

Lyrian smiled as she quickly saddled Lightfoot. As much as she was in the stable, she did not ride as much as she should especially with a horse as high tempered as Lightfoot.

She pulled herself up into the saddle with the grace that only a practiced horseman had and with a soft click of her tongue Lightfoot lunged down the center of the stables scattering the already bustling stable boys out of her path.

Lyrian smiled as Lightfoot easily cantered out of the confines of the fort and for the first time in a long time, as her horse eased into a gallop through the plains of Rohan, Lyrian felt at ease.

* * *

Eomer stormed from the Hall. It seemed every time he returned to Meduseld he left in anger. He stomped through the fort nearing the stables, even the riders in his eored scurried from his path, not wanting to find themselves on the wrong end of his fiery temper.

"Elfhelm!" Eomer barked out to one of his riders who jumped immediately to walk beside Eomer, "We ride out before the light of dawn, before that snake of a man Grima awakes and sees that we are missing," at Elfhelm's concerned look Eomer paused, "I will not leave Theodred to fight alone, not when he is surely to face his death if we do not ride to him."

Eomer placed his hand on Elfhelm's shoulder and continued in a slightly softer tone, "I am trusting you to ready the men, be discreet. We ride at dawn."

Elfhelm gave a stiff nod and went to rally the men without alerting to Grima that they would soon be leaving.

A loud clang and a heavy stream of curses caught Eomer's attention as he almost caught himself smiling, for the foul words were not spoken by the hardy old stable keeper Fram, they were female.

Eomer walked over to a bent figure who had a thumb in their mouth and whose stare was shooting daggers at the hammer before her.

"My lady I-!"

"Just hold him!" Lyrian growled, shaking her thumb and pulling the horse's hoof between her legs once more, "It wasn't your fault," she grumbled, grasping the hammer in a firmer grip this time.

In a few now cautious swings the horse she had carefully positioned had a new shoe. Lyrian stood up and stretched, her back aching from the amount of time she had spent pounding nails onto the eored's horses.

"It seems Fram was right," Eomer started, catching Lyrian slightly off guard, "You hardly ever leave the stables."

Lyrian shrugged, throwing the hammer to a stable boy who was rushing by, "The stables are calmer than the hall, more peaceful, and that rat doesn't dare come this far away from the king for fear of someone else planting ideas in his head."

Eomer's temper threatened to rear its ugly head once more, "The king is not the same, Grima has only strengthened his hold."

Eomer paused taking a moment to study Lyrian again closely, "You should have sent word some way, he has to be stopped-"

"You think I haven't thought of that?" Lyrian spat looking at Eomer with a fire he had not seen in a long time, "He watches me too closely already, he does not trust me. It is as if he is waiting for me to step off the fine line he has created just so he can punish me," she gestured wildly as she spoke and slammed her thumb on a wall.

She breathed out a foul curse that caused Eomer's eyebrows to surge upward.

"Let me," he said gesturing to her thumb.

Lyrian hesitated for a moment, before submitting her thumb to his scrutiny. She held her breath as he took her hand gently in his, she could not help but notice how calloused and strong his hands were, yet how gently they held her hands before him.

Eomer gently examined her thumb bending it carefully, taking notice how despite the amount of hard work she did, her slender hands remained only slightly calloused and were as soft as any noble woman.

Lyrian looked up at Eomer as if she was seeing him for the first time, his brows were slightly furrowed as he assessed the severity of her injury, yet his eyes held so much emotion; he had seen so much horrors since she had seen him last, yet his eyes still held a tenderness.

Eomer looked up suddenly and caught Lyrian's eyes, he lost himself in their depth, it was as if all the wisdom of all the ages were locked away somewhere inside the endless pools of green.

Lyrian felt her breath hitch at the intensity of his stare. It was then that she noticed he still held her hand in his gentle grasp.

Eomer looked down and back up to her with a small smile, "Just some minor bruising, nothing broken."

Lyrian smiled, ready to say something when Eowyn walked into the stables, "There you are!" she exclaimed as the two quickly separated and turned to Eowyn, "Dinner is about to be served, both of you must be starved."

Eomer chuckled at his sisters impeccable timing as Lyrian quickly followed behind Eowyn. It was best if she was not late for the meal that was about to take place. Eomer watched her retreating form with much confusion. Simply holding her strong but delicate hand had awoken something deep within him, a feeling completely foreign to him.

* * *

Lyrian tossed and turned that night, something was not right. Mere hours before dawn, she surrendered her efforts of trying to fall asleep and went to stir the embers in her fire, when soft murmurings drew her attention to the window.

She could barely make out the faint outlines of Eomer's riders saddling their horses and packing provisions by the stables. Surely Eomer did not intedd to leave without saying goodbye.

Lyrian quickly drew her robe about her and not even bothering with shoes of any sort hurriedly slipped from her chambers and out the servants entrance to Meduseld, rushing to reach the stables before Eomer left.

"My Lord Eomer," Elfhelm said with a nod towards the Hall.

Eomer turned to see Lyrian rushing towards him, her hair flying about her and still dressed in her nightgown.

"I will only be a moment," he said to a smirking Elfhelm.

He walked away from his eored meeting Lyrian away from where unwanted ears may hear what may be said.

"Lyrian," Eomer said.

"No, you do not have the right to _Lyrian_ me," she said, slightly angry, though Eomer could see in her eyes that she did not entirely mean what she said, "Is this now the second time you are going to leave me with hardly a goodbye?"

Eomer shook his head, "We have to leave before Grima sees that we are gone, I did not want him to see the two of us together, from what I have seen, he would have believed you were conspiring with us. I will not have you punished for the actions I am about to do."

Lyrian stared at him for a moment, she understood Eomer's reasoning, yet he could see in her eyes she was unwilling to accept it.

"Please return safe," she said softly, while she would be loathe to admit it, Eomer could hear the vulnerability in her voice, "both of you, bring him home."

Eomer nodded, and reached out to pull her into an embrace. Lyrian hesitated before she allowed him to pull her close.

"Nothing would prevent me from returning," he said honestly, "not even Sauron himself. "

He held her at arms length trying to give her a reassuring smile, yet as image after image of Grima's sly looks he had sent her, Eomer knew that at the moment, he could do very little to comfort her.

Lyrian looked at an impatient Elfhelm who was holding Firefoot's reigns while he and the rest of the eored sat on their horses, ready to follow Eomer to the death.

"You had best be off," she said with a sad smile, "before your riders leave without you."

Eomer gave her one last look, his brows furrowed in worry as he nodded a goodbye.

Lyrian turned to walk away trying to rid her heart of the sorrow she felt at his departure. He would return soon, and with Theodred and his riders among them.

She stood at the front dais of the Hall watching as the riders sped from the fort.

Eomer spared one last glance at the fort behind him. A glowing white figure stood before the Golden Hall glowing in the moon's light. Eomer sent one last wave in Lyrian's direction before a quick order sent the riders galloping away from the fort, Lyrian's glowing figure watching them as they left.

* * *

**Not quite sure how I feel about this chapter. I really enjoyed writing the scene between Lyrian and Eomer I am glad I can finally start to explore the relationship between the two. Please let me know what you like, what you didn't like, I promise I will answer any question and respond to every review as best I can. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and if I don't post the next chapter before, I hope you all have a very Happy New Year!**

**~Aelthar**


	7. Chapter 6

Eomer reigned Firefoot to a stop, looking across the massacre before him. At least a hundred riders lay dead before him; if only he had gotten there sooner.

"Theodred," he said softly, a pit settling deep in his stomach at the thought of finding Theodred among the riders, "Find the king's son!" he ordered.

His eored quickly dismounted and began looking through the dead for Theodred's body. Eomer followed behind at a slower pace surveying those who now lay at his feet and the foul carcasses of orcs among the riders.

"Mordor will pay for this!" growled one of Eomer's riders.

Eomer kicked over an orcs helm to see a white hand plastered over the face of it, "These orcs are not from Mordor," he sneered through gritted teeth.

"My Lord!" called a rider from the edge of the water, "Over here!"

Eomer ran to the river and gently pulled Theodred from the ground, "He's alive!" he whispered shocked.

He picked Theodred up as carefully as he could, struggling slightly at the immense weight of the armor clad body of his cousin. He eased him onto Firefoot, carefully mounted behind him and with a simple jerk of his head the eored sped towards Edoras as if the very wrath of Mordor was behind them.

Eowyn sped towards the front walk of the Golden Hall. Riders were seen yesterday coming towards Edoras yet Eomer was not supposed to return until the Fords of Isen were secure. Surely he did not manage that in one day unless… Eowyn felt her stomach drop as she ran, her skirts flailing about her.

"Lyrian!" she called as she reached the stables trying desperately to find her before someone else did, "Lyrian!" she shouted as the thundering sound of hooves entered the fort.

"Fram!" she called seeing the old man leading a pair of strong horses to their stalls, "Where is Lyrian? Riders have returned-"

"Lyrian has been riding all afternoon, she will be back when she decides to come back," he murmured half to himself as he secured the horses in their stalls, "I will send her to the Hall if I see her."

Eowyn nodded, her eyes wide and frantic at what she would find when she entered the Hall.

She ran up the stairs skipping two at a time her heart pounding and her chest tight, desperate to see if her brother was all right.

She nodded at Grima who stoically opened the door allowing Eowyn to run inside.

"My Lady Eowyn!" a young maid called, "They are in Theodred's room!" she called as Eowyn ran past her towards the bedchambers.

She came to a sudden stop when she came to Theodred's room and she saw her brother sitting by the bed. Theodred lay wrapped in bandages and as pale as the fresh winter snow.

Eowyn ran to the bed, "Theodred?" she whispered softly, the sadness was evident in her voice.

Theodred turned his head slightly recognizing his cousins soft voice. Eowyn Noticed the large head wound that was still bleeding though she knew it had happened long ago. She looked towards Eomer in concern, but he only nodded towards Theodred's stomach. Eowyn gently lifted up the numerous blankets atop Theodred and looked beneath the bandage that was trying desperately trying to heal a massive wound. Eowyn closed her eyes against the horror that was before her and gently recovered Theodred.

Quick footsteps caused both Eomer and Eowyn's heads to snap towards the door to see Lyrian about to enter the room.

As soon as her eyes fell to Theodred, she sagged against the doorway, her hand covering her mouth and stomach, as she shook her head.

"No, no no," she said softly looking at her best friend dying before her.

Eowyn stood to go to her while Eomer only looked at Lyrian as she tried desperately to hold in her grief. Eowyn reached out to comfort her but Lyrian shook her head and ran from the room.

"Lyrian!" Eowyn called to her retreating form.

Eomer stood up and stopped his sister before she ran after Lyrian.

"Wait," he said as Eowyn looked at him distraught, "She needs time."

Eowyn looked at him disdainfully, "She should not be alone Eomer, she was close to him."

Eomer nodded and went to follow Lyrian when Eowyn stopped him.

"You may want to change out of-" she gestured to Eomer's armor, which was now covered with Theodred's blood.

Eomer nodded, and stalked from the room. He was close to Theodred as well, yet he did not have the same bond that he and Lyrian had. He stormed into his chambers, startling the dogs that were lying in front of the roaring fire and began angrily ripping off his armor. If he had been a few hours earlier, he could have stopped such a massacre from happening, yet Theoden's snake of and aide had ensured that was not to happen. Eomer paused just as he was about to throw his chain mail on the floor; perhaps there was an ulterior motive to the attack. Perhaps Grima had somehow initiated it, he was spending more and more time away from Edoras, and with Theodred gone, there was less opposition to his rule over the king.

Eomer threw his chain mail to the ground even angrier than he had been before. He let out a snarl as he kicked the nearest thing he could find and a shooting pain sprang up his foot. He simply gritted his teeth and collapsed onto his chair in front of the fire, his head resting in his hands as the true weight of the previous events crashed down on him. Not only was he about to loose an incredibly close and loyal friend, but the people of Rohan were about to lose any hope they had of escaping Grima's rule.

Eomer sighed and stood up, there was not much daylight left and he knew he had given Lyrian as much time as she would need. He set off from Meduseld and walked slowly through the streets of Edoras. He knew exactly where he was going to find Lyrian, it was where she always went when she was troubled; the great pastures outside the walls.

Eomer walked up next to her and leaned against the railing. Lyrian did not need to turn her head to know who it was that had found her. Instead, she kept her focus on the hundreds of horses that roamed around the great pasture.

There was silence for a while as the two looked over the horses and the sun slowly started to sink beyond the hills.

"Theoden would always tell me that no matter what he would always return to me."

Eomer looked down at Lyrian, her eyes were free from tears yet the only expression on her face was grief.

"Whenever I ran away from the Meduseld to hide from things for a while, Theodred always knew where to find me," she said, "always."

Eomer felt his heart clench at her words, the amount of sorrow her voice held was more than anyone should feel.

"He was a brother to me," she said so softly Eomer hardly heard her.

She placed her head on her arms which were resting against the fence of the pastures as if she was trying to shut the world out.

Eomer cautiously approached her and for lack of anything better to do, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering her any comfort he could.

Eomer leaned up against the door watching Lyrian as she held Theodred's hand willing him to keep fighting. He shifted and she quickly turned her head.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked softly, returning her gaze to Theodred.

"Not long," Eomer replied walking over to her, "Have you been here all night?"

Lyrian nodded, "I did not want him to be alone," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Eomer wrapped his arm around her shoulders, Eowyn and I are speaking to the King, will you join us?"

Lyrian shook her head, "I should stay here with Theodred, he may need me."

Eomer nodded, as much as it pained him to leave her alone again, he understood her desire to be with Theodred as long as she could.

"I will be back," he said softly kissing the top of her head and walking quietly out of the room.

When he entered the main hall, his sister was already speaking with Theoden.

"Your son is badly wounded my lord," she said holding his hand and staring into his blank eyes.

Eomer gritted his teeth, his sister still believed that Theoden existed somewhere deep within the withered shell of the king yet Eomer, though loyal to the king to his death, was finding it harder and harder to believe that the Theoden he knew was still alive.

"He was ambushed," he growled, "If we don't defend our country Saruman will take it by force."

Theoden's blank eyes did not move and remained fixed upon a crack on the floor.

"That is a lie," hissed the oily tongue of Grima as he slithered from behind the king's throne, "Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally."

"Grima…Grima…" the king mumbled as Grima knelt next to him.

"Orcs are roaming freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will," Eomer said forcefully through gritted teeth, "Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman."

He threw a crude helm at the feet of Grima and the King with a sick satisfaction as the Grima started at the sight of the white hand.

Grima drew himself up to his full height which when compared to Eomer's massive stature, seemed like a mouse trying to stand up to a lion.

"Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" he whined wary of Eomer's furrowed brow, "Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent…your warmongering."

Eomer clenched his hands in fists at his side, trying in vain to control his temper, Eowyn stepped back knowing that Eomer's temper was nothing to be trifled with.

"Warmongering?" he asked, livid at Grima's callousness towards the affairs of the kingdom, he rushed towards him and shoved him against a pillar grabbing his face in his iron fist and forcing Grima to look at him, "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price Grima? When all the Men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?"

Soft footsteps entered the hall and Grima's eyes flashed over to Lyrian who stopped at the doorway to the private chambers, looking carefully at the situation in front of her. She set down the pitcher of water she was brining to Theodred and walked further into the hall before stopping, she did not wish to interrupt Eomer's conversation with Grima.

Eomer followed Grima's line of sight, his stomach sank when his eyes met Lyrian's. Eomer shoved Grima harder against the wall pure rage encompassed his entire body.

"Too long have you watched Lyrian. Too long have you haunted her steps," he growled.

Grima's frantic eyes locked on something past Eomer's shoulder just as two guards roughly grasp Eomer and rip him from Grima who stood trying to control his trembling.

"Eomer?" Lyrian asked worriedly, trying to get a grasp as to what was happening.

Eomer struggled trying to free himself from the guards holding him down, at the sound of Lyrian's voice he struggled to see her, to reassure her in some way.

"You see much, Eomer, son of Eomund," Grima started a sneer growing on his face, "Too much. You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan… and all its domains under pain of death."

"NO!" shouted Lyrian rushing towards Eomer who at the sound of her cry struggled even harder trying to free himself so he could go after Grima once more. Grima reached out and grabbed Lyrian pulling her towards him. Lyrian struggled and turned herself to face him and slapped him hard. Grima growled before forcing her to look towards Eomer, one arm roughly holding her around her waist, the other forcing her head towards him.

Eomer growled now desperate to get to Lyrian but the guards were relentless and punched him hard in the stomach making him pause for a moment to catch his breath.

"You have no authority here. Your orders mean nothing!" he spat.

Grim grinned, "This order does not come from me," he said beckoning to one of his followers who threw a signed order in front of Eomer, "It comes from the king. He signed it this morning."

The guards started to drag a struggling Eomer from the hall.

"Let me go!" shouted Lyrian trying to free herself from Grima's harsh grasp.

She moved to slap him again but he was quickly and slapped her so hard the sound made the guards pause to see Lyrian fall to the ground. Eomer growled as he strained to reach her, if he was to be banished from the kingdom, he would not leave Lyrian to suffer alone.

Grima reached down and dragged her up to face Eomer, "You _will_ obey me or you will end up like him!" he said shoving her face towards Eomer.

Eomer, while he struggled in the grasp of the guards, when his eyes met Lyrian's they were filled with such emotion of both promise, regret and sorrow.

Lyrian closed her eyes as a single tear fell when the door closed cutting off her sight of Eomer; she would never see him again. When Grima let go of her she simply crumpled to the floor and sat with a dazed look upon her, her eyes never leaving the door silently willing Eomer to come bounding in. Eomer had left many times, yet never had she felt so empty.


	8. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much for your interest in my story. PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! Your reviews inspire me to write faster!**

**Please Enjoy!**

* * *

"Get your hands off of me!" Lyrian seethed trying to twist her way out of Grima's guards' hands.

Edoras had fallen completely under Grima's control; none were loyal to him, yet with Eomer gone and Theodred dying, there was no one left to contradict him. The people of Rohan were unable to stand against Grima as his temper was quick to turn and his punishments were never reasonable. Lyrian had been trying in vain to escape from Grima's careful watch to find help, yet with each attempt, she was always caught.

The maids through out the hall scurried out of the guards' path, looking towards Lyrian. She was their last hope, and every time she was caught, the people of Edoras felt their freedom slowly slipping away.

These looks were not lost on Lyrian, she felt every pair of eyes on her, and the disappointment each held. She struggled in the guards grasp once more but it was no use, their grip, as much as she hated to admit it, was too strong.

"I can physically walk on my own thank you!" she seethed, there was no way she would be able to escape their grasp, she rebelled in any way she could, even if it was simply with her words.

The guards simply laughed, "Grima is expecting you, we would not wish for you to lose your way…again," the guard growled, the woman they were currently escorting would run if she was given the slightest chance.

With a simple nod the door to her room was wrenched open and she was roughly thrown in.

Lyrian stood quickly ready defend herself from Grima; she could not see him, but he was certainly close, he would not miss this opportunity to demonstrate his control over her.

"That is the third time this week you have attempted to run away," sneered a voice from the shadows behind her bed, "tell me Lyrian, when you manage to escape, how do you plan on finding him? He is leagues away if he is not dead already."

"He is not dead!" she said forcefully, not allowing that thought to even enter her mind.

Grima chuckled emerging from behind her bed, "You say that with such conviction, yet you cannot help but realize the possibility that he has perished-"

"Unless Eomer's body is buried with his kin, he is not dead!" she said even more forcefully than before, "and until I am dead, and buried with my kin, I will never stop trying to get away from you," she growled now looking at him straight in the eye.

Grima smiled darkly yet he knew that the fiery woman that stood before him now was not one to be take lightly.

"I do not envy the man that will be stuck with you in marriage," he said slyly, in order for him to get his way, he needed to be careful.

"I do not see how any woman would be able to stomach looking at you for more than a day."

"Ahh but there you are wrong," Grima smiled evilly, "Lady Eowyn and I will marry in a month."

Lyrian looked at him in disgust, "Eowyn?" she yelled, "How could you?"

Grima only smiled, "She will not be as disobedient as you, and I know she will make the most charming wife."

Lyrian felt her world crashing around her; Eowyn would surely die if she were forced to marry Grima. She could not allow Eowyn to marry for any reason other than love.

Grima chuckled at the conflicted look on her face, he knew that his plan had worked; Lyrian was too noble. He slowly turned away ready to leave her to her thoughts.

"Wait," she called softly just as she reached her door, "take me instead," she said slightly louder.

Grima remained with his back towards her, "My dear, I do not quite understand," he said with mock surprise.

Lyrian only frowned, her eyes burning with anger, "That was your plan all along was it not?" she said with no question, she knew what his ploy was the second he announced he was going to marry Eowyn.

"Do not take me to be a fool Grima, your eyes have not left my backside since I came of age," she seethed, "I will not have you force Eowyn into marriage, not when I can spare her that horror."

Grima turned around, "I am glad you have finally come to your senses, I am sure the people will be most rejoiced to hear that you have willingly accepted my hand in marriage."

"I have willingly done nothing, but spare Eowyn a lifetime of servitude, you will do well to remember that my loyalties do not lie with you."

Grima smirked, "When the people of Edoras see you at my side, after having willingly become my wife, they will not disobey me."

"They will never be loyal to you spineless son of a – "

Grima lunged towards her and forcefully grabbed her head and waist and kissed her hard.

Lyrian struggled, trying to get away, there was no love in the kiss, not an ounce of compassion, only Grima's need to fully dominate her and remove every last bit of freedom she had left.

Lyrian finally got her arm free and in one swift movement, she slapped him hard across the face, pleased when she saw a pale red mark start to form.

"You may take me as your wife," she said, but you will never own me, I would rather die, before I let you touch me again."

Grima nodded, his hand gently pressing his warm cheek, "I knew you would say that, yet I can promise you, you will be nothing but an obedient wife to me. If I hear that you have called your _precious_ Eomer, or if I find you dead, it is not your life that would be forfeit, it is Eowyn's"

He grinned in satisfaction at the look of horror that quickly spread across her face, "No," she said softly shaking her head.

Grima motioned to his guards that it was time to leave. He could not help but grin in sick satisfaction at her helpless yells as he slammed her door behind him.

He looked towards the guard, "I do not think she will give you any more trouble," he said evilly, "If she does come from her room, follow her, and alert me."

* * *

Eomer reined his horse to a stop, he had been tracking this band of orcs for three days now; he was tired of simply chasing them down, he wanted their blood.

"My Lord Eomer!" called one of his scouts, "not three leagues west from here, they have stopped for the night," the scout reported breathlessly; he had rode hard to get back.

Eomer turned to the rest of his eored, "We ride west! Weapons at the ready!"

The eored immediately readied themselves, they were just as anxious to kill the band of orcs as Eomer was.

Eomer's men set off at a quick pace, desperate to reach them before the orcs decided to move on again.

It did not take long for his company to reach the outskirts of the orc camp. Eomer motioned for his men to split into three and charge the orcs. Eomer felt not a twinge of remorse as he plunged his spear into the unsuspecting orcs, nor did he feel the satisfaction he wished he had. The men made short work of them and in no more than a few minutes, the orcs lay on the ground, all of them slain.

"Elfhelm!" Eomer called forcefully, "How many injured?"

Elfhelm looked up from his own account of the fate of the riders, "Mere scratches my Lord!"

Eomer nodded as he surveyed the scene before him once again, his heart clenched at the sight of two rider less horses.

Eomer quickly dismounted, "Garulf! Baldred!" he barked as the men around him jumped from his path.

"My Lord," one of his men said with both caution and sadness, "They have been slain."

Eomer clenched his jaw as his hand gripped his sword so hard it was a miracle it did not mold to his hand. He could feel the anger building inside him; these foul orcs were killing good men, and his eored was the only one trying to stop it.

"ARGH!" he shouted as he kicked an orc helmet across the plain.

His men moved to burn the orcs and prepare Garulf and Baldred. Through the grief, Eomer could not help but think it was one less group of orcs that could hurt Lyrian.

Though the thundering from his riders was somewhat deafening, Eomer could make out the shout from the top of the pass.

"Riders of Rohan!" the man called out, "What news from the Mark?"

Eomer raised his spear and his men immediately turned, galloping to surround the three strangers. In only a few short moments, the three travelers were completely surrounded; there was no escape for them.

"What business does an Elf, a Man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" Eomer asked harshly riding to the center of the circle, "Speak quickly!"

The dwarf looked up to Eomer in disdain, "Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine."

Eomer's jaw clenched, and his hand tightened on his spear; he had no patience for the stubbornness of Dwarves. He gracefully dismounted from his horse and went to tower over the dwarf.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf…. If it stood but a little higher from the ground," he seethed.

The Elf quickly drew his bow and aimed it towards Eomer's head.

"You would die before your stroke fell."

Eomer's men immediately pointed their spears towards the Elf, he would die immediately if the arrow even went anywhere near Eomer.

The man quickly stopped in between the Elf and Eomer and gently pushed the Elf's arm down.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he explained, "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your King."

Eomer sighed, "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," he said as he wearily removed his helmet, "Not even his own kin."

He flicked his hand and his eored raised their spears, still maintaining a careful watch on the Elf and Dwarf.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king, and claimed lordship over these lands," Eomer continued, "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that we are banished."

He stepped closer to Aragorn, speaking directly to him, "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say…as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets."

"We are no spies," said Aragorn gently, "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."

Eomer nodded, now understanding their quest, "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two Hobbits," the Dwarf suddenly called out making Eomer look to him in wonder at the emotion the Dwarf now displayed over his two lost friends, "Did you see two Hobbits with them?"

Aragorn desperately turned to Eomer, he would not fail Merry and Pippen as well, "They would be small. Only children to your eyes."

Eomer sadly shook his head, "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them," he said pointing to a smoking plume several leagues behind them.

"Dead?" Gimli gasped not wanting to believe that that was possible.

Legolas bent his head in sorrow, whispering a silent blessing to the two perished hobbits.

Eomer nodded slowly, "I am sorry," he paused for a moment before he let out a shrill whistle, "Hasufel! Arod!" he called as two horses were brought forward, "May these horses bear you to better fortune that their former masters."

Aragorn nodded his thanks.

"When you return them," Eomer said quietly, worry evident in every line on his face, "send word to Lady Lyrian that I am alive. If anything can be done to improve her situation, see that it is done."

Aragorn looked to Eomer with compassion, "It is not our quest," he said gently, "yet I will do everything I can to make sure your lady is well."

Eomer nodded, "Farewell then," he said as he set his helmet back on and mounted his horse and went to stand next to Aragorn, "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope. It is forsaken in these lands," he said darkly as he turned to his men, "We ride north!" he shouted.

As quickly as they had come, the eored galloped away leaving the forlorn travelers far behind them.

* * *

Lyrian splashed cold water on her face desperately trying to clear her mind, desperately wishing that there was someone she could talk to; someone that could comfort her, yet she knew that no amount of hoping would do any good. She was alone.

She trudged to her wardrobe and placed her dress inside looking longingly at the tunics and trousers that beckoned to her. She sighed, if only she could get away, she could find Eomer, they could stop Grima, the people were still loyal to Rohan, it would not take much encouragement to get them to stand against Grima.

Eomer…. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to force him from her thoughts, but it was no use. The way he looked at her in the stables before he left, his eyes seemed to stare right into her soul, as if she was transparent before him. And his eyes held such emotions as she had never seen before.

Her door slammed open jerking her from her thoughts. She turned to see who it was that was now charging into her room, to see an infuriated Eowyn. Angry beyond anything she thought the young woman possible.

"Are the rumors true?" Eowyn seethed, "Are you to marry Grima?"

Lyrian looked down, she could not bear to look at her, as she knew the truth was in her eyes, Eowyn would see through her act in a second, and her life would be in danger. Lyrian could not allow that to happen.

Eowyn scoffed, "I cannot believe this," she seethed pacing back and forth in front of Lyrian who would still not make eye contact, "Have you forgotten my brother already? Have you no hope that he will come back?"

Lyrian forced herself to remain quiet.

"Now that my brother is banished you attach yourself to the next highest official?"

Lyrian still refused to speak, waiting for Eowyn's storm to pass.

"My brother cared for you. To what extent I know not, but to simply forget him as soon as he leaves and to turn your attention to the enemy," she paused in her accusations and looked at Lyrian's bent form, "I do not even know you anymore."

Lyrian finally looked up to meet Eowyn's eyes. Eowyn was not met with meek and defeated eyes that she had expected, they were not evil either, rather Lyrian's eyes burned with a sense of purpose, she had resigned to her fate, but she was not going to meet it meekly.

"Eowyn, please believe me when I say that I had no other choice-"

"There is always another choice!" Eowyn yelled, too angry to notice the desperate plea in Lyrian's eyes to trust her, "You chose to give up hope."

Lyrian said nothing, she could not tell Eowyn the truth or her life would be forfeit.

"Please trust me."

Eowyn looked at her, her eyes dark and final, "How can I trust a traitor?" she asked with no mercy.

* * *

Eowyn took one last look at Lyrian before, shaking her head, she stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her.

Lyrian let out a shaky breath, she knew what the consequences would be when Eowyn found out, yet it was different when she was met with them. She sank to the floor, her legs suddenly unable to hold her any longer; she had done the right thing, she had saved Eowyn from a lifetime of grief, yet there was no pride in her decision, she only felt dread. She drew her knees inter her chest and hugged them to her tight. She looked out the window to see the small square of sky, hoping against hope that Eomer was still alive.

Elfhelm stared across the fire at Eomer. It was no secret that Eomer was beyond anxious since they had left Edoras and it was no secret as to why. Eomer did not worry for his sister, he missed her terribly, but he knew she was well protected. It was the Lady Lyrian who held Eomer in his worry. Lyrian would stop anything from happening to Eowyn but at what cost, Eomer could only guess.

Elfhelm watched as Eomer's hold on his sword tightened, and his jaw bulged as he clenched it. Where the logs before him not already on fire, his intense glare would have turned them to ash.

Elfhelm cleared his throat, the rest of the men were far enough away from the two that their conversation would not be overheard, "The men will follow you Eomer, should you wish to save her," he said softly, not wishing to upset the man even more.

Eomer shook his head, his iron grip loosening only slightly as he raised his eyes to meet Elfhelm's, "I would not risk it," Elfhelm looked at him with concern, this was not the same brave man he had known before, something was wrong.

Eomer sighed, "Should I or anyone of my company come any where close to Edoras, it is not only my life that is forfeit," he raised his eyes met Elfhelm's with a burning anger that would send any man running, "but Lyrian's as well."


	9. Trailer

I apologize for this not being an update to the story, however I will not be able to update for a while. As something to tide you over, I have created something of a trailer, for this story, its not much, but I think it kind of covers the story well. Please let me know what you think!

(The link is on my profile page as well)

watch?v=mwp0DFsvxeM


	10. Chapter 8

**I felt bad that I hadn't updated in a while so I gave you guys a very long chapter. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!**

* * *

Aragorn stood to stand next to Gandalf, carefully stuffing weed in his pipe as he walked towards him. The night clung to the land like a wet blanket thick and omniscient.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dur, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Numenor still lives."

Aragorn remained passive, not a trace of emotion touched his face, yet his eyes held another story.

Gandalf turned to Aragorn, speaking with a sense of urgency, "Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become. And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. He will use his puppet Saruman to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge…for Rohan is weak and ready to fall," he said shaking his head as he turned to survey the land once more, "The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning…we have one advantage," Aragorn looked at Gandalf in slight disbelief that there could be any silver lining at all, "The Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it…has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor…in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed…and the secrecy of his quest."

Aragorn felt a pang of guilt pull at his gut. Gandalf sensed this and spoke to him once more.

"Do not regret your decision to leave him," he said trying to convince himself of his next words, "Frodo must finish this task alone."

Aragorn smiled sadly, "He's not alone. Sam went with him."

Gandalf smiled; perhaps the quest was not as dismal as he had originally thought, "Did he? Did he indeed? Good," he said nodding, "Yes, very good."

* * *

Lyrian dabbed the rough cloth on the swollen skin beneath her eye hissing as the water stung the open cut. She reluctantly looked up at the looking glass, something she generally avoided doing at all costs; she cringed at the sight she saw. Her entire left eye was red and puffy and the scratch that stretched from her the middle of her cheek past her eye where Grima's ring had cut her smiled an ugly sneer. Her skin, save for her eye was pale and seemed stretched too thin in places. She sighed as she leaned against the washing cabinet and stared into the shaking water below her. The only reason the water was shaking was from the pure rage that Lyrian was attempting to control as it raged through her. She closed her eyes trying to rid herself of the memory and dirty feeling she had left over from mere moments before.

_Lyrian stood in the Hall's pantry looking for something to eat, she had missed the midday meal, and the kitchen servants were now eating theirs' and she had no wish for them to get up on her account. She settled for some cheese and bread, not having the stomach for anything stronger. She turned and jumped slightly finding herself face to face with Grima, a lust burning in his eyes that caused her stomach to plummet in fear._

_"What is it you want Grima?" she asked, her voice cold like the steel of a blade. _

_Grima smiled an equally cold smile and slowly stepped closer to her, the lust growing stronger with each step._

_"What I want to know," he said as he trapped Lyrian against the wall of the pantry, "is why my bride to be, is never where I can find her, and always seems to slip from my grasp."_

_Lyrian continued to stare at him unflinchingly, though she could feel her heart pounding._

_"Why," he continued his face no more than an inch away from hers, "we are to be married in a week, and I have received nothing more from you than a simple glance."_

_Grima stepped closer one more time so that he was standing on top of her, his arm reached down to stroke her thigh while the other slowly started to move towards her breast._

_Lyrian flinched as his hand touched her thigh, yet the second his hand began to move towards her breast, she brought her knee up straight and strong, causing Grima to crumple in half._

_Lyrian bent down so she was speaking directly to his ear, "You may marry me in a week, yet you will never become Lord over me, and you _will _not touch me without my consent."_

_Grima chuckled, straightening up, his face contorted with anger, pain and lust, and without a seconds pause, he punched Lyrian across the face as hard as he could, his ring cutting into her skin._

_"Bitch," he sputtered spitting at her feet. _

The door burst open jerking Lyrian from her memories and causing her to nearly knock over the basin of water before her.

"What is the meaning of this?" he father growled as he entered her room, barely noticing the cut on her eye, "I am gone for a week collecting taxes for Grima, and when I return, I find that my daughter is to marry the man who has brought this dark time to Rohan. What has he promised you?" he sputtered, his anger overwhelming as he paced back and forth in front of his daughter, "What could a man such as him, have promised you, can offer you, a woman such as yourself? How could you betray the people? They look up to you Lyrian!"

Lyrian could not help but feel her heart break as she turned to face her father.

"By all that is good in this land," Hama said with concern as he finally saw the large cut on his daughter's face, "What happened to you?"

Lyrian sighed, a sigh that was so heavy, it seemed to coat everything in the room and anchor it to the floor.

"Father I cannot tell you, but please believe me when I say that I had no choice!" she pleaded.

Hama looked at his daughter. Before him he saw two people, though Lyrian was the only one in the room. There was the person she presented to the people of Rohan. The person who remained a rock for all others to anchor themselves to; who was the first into the fields or pastures in the beginning of the day, and the last to leave. The person who stared at fear without flinching, and inspired hope in all those around her. Yet he saw a second person as well, so carefully hidden by the rough shell of the first, that it was no surprise that he had never seen her before. This person, was vulnerable, this person was unsure of what to do, and needed more than anything for her father to trust her blindly this once.

Hama sighed pulling his helmet from his head, and rubbed his eyes, "I can only hope that you know what you are doing," he said, though his face remained barren of any emotion, his eyes held nothing but compassion for his daughter.

Lyrian nodded and stepped closer to her father, wishing nothing more than for him to wrap her in his arms as he did when she was a child but knowing that if he did so, all her walls would crumble.

A healer rushed by her room in a flurry of skirts, "My lady," she said breathless, "It's Theodred," she said with tears in her eyes.

Lyrian felt her heart clench as the healer rushed away as quickly as she had come and looked to her father once more; everything she wished she could say lay in the endless pools of her eyes yet her father could only stare at her in pity.

Lyrian left before he could say anything more and ran, nearly knocking several maids over, to Theodred's room.

She paused at the door reluctant to go any further seeing Eowyn sitting by his bedside.

Eowyn turned at the sound of skirts at the door, "What is this traitor doing here?" she seethed glaring at the poor healer who had summoned Lyrian, while tears streamed down her face.

The healer, who was one of the few who believed that Lyrian was forced into marriage with Grima sighed, completely exhausted from trying to avoid Eowyn's wrath and the grief she now felt at the death of the future king.

"Theodred would have wanted to see her, it is only right that she is here."

Eowyn stood from her post so fast that it was a miracle she did not knock the chair over.

She stormed from the room glaring at Lyrian as she left, as if trying to decide whether or not she would hurt Theodred in her absence. Lyrian simply allowed the younger woman to vent her anger as she saw fit. Once again glad that it was not anger and not hopelessness.

Lyrian cautiously approached the bed, mindful of how death seemed to have completely taken over Theodred's body, which now lay pale as a ghost against the bedclothes.

Lyrian gingerly picked up Theodred's hand willing him to turn his head and smile as if to say everything was a joke, that he was not dead and wanted to know why she had neglected her archery for so long, yet he did no such thing.

Lyrian rested her head against the bed, trying to block out the world around her yet not relinquishing her hold on Theodred.

* * *

Gandalf pulled Shadofax to a halt as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stopped beside him, gazing at the strong hall before them.

"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan….whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

Aragorn smiled, remembering with fondness the last time he had visited the Golden Hall, and the brilliant girl he had found there, "The Light of the Edoras, still shines," he said, for some reason he would never know, he could sense it there in the land.

Gandalf nodded, "Yes, though I fear something or someone threatens to extinguish her flame."

Gimli looked to Aragorn in confusion, "Light?"  
Aragorn nodded, "There is a girl, or rather a woman now, who is such the very essence of all that is Rohan, the people flock to her as their guiding light, such the name the Light of the Edoras came to be."

Legolas nodded now remembering all that he had heard of this woman, "It is said her beauty is matched only by that of the Lady Galadriel and that her wrath should be just as feared by enemies to Rohan as that of the wrath of Mordor."

Gimli swallowed thickly, "Out of the frying pan and into the fire, will I never see the end of these enchantress women?"

Gandalf smiled cautiously, "Be careful what you say Gimli son of Gloin, do not look for welcome here."

With that Gandalf urged Shadofax forward, followed by Aragorn and Legolas as they galloped towards the looming figure of Meduseld.

* * *

"Oh," sneered a sarcastic voice from the door. Lyrian tried desperately to block the wretched sound out but to no avail, "he must have died sometime in the night. What a tragedy for the King… to lose his only son and heir."

Grima came and sat on the bed so he was facing Lyrian's now blank eyes, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I understand, his passing is hard to accept. Especially now that your dear Eomer has deserted you."

Lyrian sprang from her chair, her eyes blazing with anger, "Leave me alone, snake!"

Grima smiled, thinking he was getting close to breaking her nerve, "Oh, but you are alone. Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness, in the bitter watches of the night…when all your life seems to shrink. The walls of your bower closing in about you. A hutch to trammel some with thing in," he reached his hand out to stroke her cheek, but she flinched away, not allowing him to touch her; Grima only grinned wider, "So fair. So cold. Like a morning of pale spring…still clinging to winter's chill."

Lyrian stared at him, her hands shaking with anger, "Your words are poison," she spat storming from the room. She raced to the front dais of the Hall and desperately searched the horizon for any sign of Eomer, hoping beyond hope, that he was still alive.

* * *

Aragorn gently urged his horse forward through the gate of the fort as a tattered standard fluttered to the ground beside him. He looked at it with a sinking feeling in his heart, wondering how far the state of Rohan had fallen. He looked up to Meduseld, to see a lone woman dressed in a pale blue gazing out into the land.

Aragorn looked around at the people who still remained in the fort, and saw in their eyes their dismal and hopeless state.

Gimli noticed it as well as he soon offered his opinion, "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."

Aragorn looked back up towards Meduseld, but the figure in blue was gone; as if she had vanished into thin air.

The company dismounted and strode up the stairs purposefully, fully prepared for anything that may lie in wait inside the grand doors.

The guard of the doors, Hama, strode up to meet the strangers, looking upon Aragorn with a trace of familiarity but shook it off as he looked to Gandalf whom he knew well.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue," he said with much disdain for the latter name mentioned.

Gandalf nodded towards Aragorn who reluctantly began passing up his weapons, one by one, slightly amused at the shocked looks the younger guards gave his multitude and rare weapons as he piled them into his arms. He placed his hand on Gimli's shoulder nodding to the guards as if to say that no harm would come to his precious axes.

Hama looked to Gandalf aware that whenever Gandalf called, mischief was sure to follow, "Your staff," he said simply.

"Hmm," Gandalf said looking at his staff trying quickly to come up with a passable excuse for him to bring it inside the hall, "You would not part an old man from his walking stick," he said chiding the guard before him.

Aragorn smiled at the worry that came over Hama's face, yet passed as Gandalf played a very convincing old man.

Hama nodded allowing them to continue and as Gandalf passed Aragorn, he winked, causing the somber ranger to smirk.

Legolas walked up to offer Gandalf his arm while Aragorn and Gimli followed closely behind ever watchful of the people in the hall.

Grima sat at the King's right hand while his men in black cautiously surrounded the new company. Grima jerked towards Theoden's ear, and whispered quickly, "My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming. He's a herald of woe."

Théoden however, only jerked his head slightly in recognition that Grima was speaking.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late…Théoden King," Gandalf said passing more of Grima's men as he drew closer to the king.

Grima once again turned his forked tongue to Théoden, "He's not welcome."

Théoden murmured trying in earnest to create a coherent sentence, "Why should I welcome you…Gandalf… Stormcrow?" he said looking towards Grima for agreement.

Grima nodded patronizingly, making Aragorn cringe, "A just question my liege," he said as he rose and walked towards Gandalf, "Late is the hour…in which this conjurer chooses to appear," Aragorn looked behind him noticing the Grima's menacing guards in black edge closer to his company, "Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent," Gandalf spat throwing away Legolas' support, "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to band crooked words with a witless worm."

Gandalf lifted his staff and pointed it threateningly at Grima's face. Grima jumped back in shock.

"His staff," he cried backing away from Gandalf, "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Grima's men lunged towards Gandalf, ready to bring him down, but Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were ready and began to fight them off. Gimli always eager for a fight, felt a sense of pleasure with each full grown man he brought crumbling to his knees.

Gandalf continued to walk forwards toward Théoden, completely ignoring the chaos behind him, Lyrian felt herself in awe of the power that seemed to radiate from Gandalf.

"Théoden…." Gandalf said strongly, "Son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the Shadows."

Grima, after having been knocked down by Gimli, tried to scramble away from Gandalf and his company, but was quickly stopped by Gimli's muddy boot, "I would stay still if I were you!"

"Hearken to me!" continued Gandalf, "I release you from the spell," he held up his hand, eyes closed in concentration.

Théoden began to laugh, a crisp and harsh cackle as jagged as the peaks of Mount Doom, a cackle that chilled Lyrian to the bone.

"You have no power here…Gandalf the _Grey_" the voice of Saruman echoed throughout the Hall.

Gandalf, angered at the fact that Saruman had decided to show himself, threw back his cloak and Théoden was blinded by the sheer brilliance of Gandalf's robes and cried out.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said, his voice thick with power as he pointed his staff towards Théoden throwing him back in his throne.

Eowyn rushed into the Hall having heard the commotion from Theodred's room and seeing her beloved uncle at the whim of the strange wizard, she rushed towards him but was stopped by Aragorn.

"Wait," he said calmly, and Eowyn was at once calm by his enchanting and soothing voice.

"If I go, Théoden dies," Saruman spat through Théoden.

Gandalf advanced towards Théoden once more, his staff still before him, "You did not kill me, you will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine!" Saruman yelled through Théoden.

"Be gone!" Gandalf cried as Théoden lunged towards him. Gandalf thrust his staff once more to Théoden causing him to fly back into his throne.

Théoden slumped forward moaning slightly and Eowyn rushed towards him, throwing Aragorn off her shoulder.

Lyrian watched from the side, reluctant to venture further for fear of Eowyn's reaction, yet she watched in amazement as the horrid spell that had held her king captive for years was slowly reversing and the face she had once loved slowly began to show itself once more.

Théoden looked at Eowyn as the haze from his vision cleared, he smiled as the recognition dawned, "I know your face," he said as she smiled at him "Eowyn."

Eowyn burst into tears to see her uncle was once again well.

Théoden looked past Eowyn, "Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled at the recovered Théoden, "Breath the free air again, my friend."

Théoden stood up, somewhat shaky but unwilling to show anymore weakness to his people, "Dark have been my dreams of late," he said raising his hands to stroke them, as if trying to coax the life back into them.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better," said Gandalf as Hama brought forth a sword and scabbard, "if they grasped your sword."

Théoden gingerly grasped the hilt, and pulled it from the scabbard, looking at it as if it was the first time he had been given it. The people in the court smiled, taking a breath of fresh spring air; their king had returned to them.

Aragorn, for the first time, took in the rest of the Hall. Many of the people of Edoras, clung to the walls, as out of reach from Grima's men as they could be.

One figure however stood out from the rest. Aragorn felt his eyes drawn to a young woman who stood apart from the rest, her back straight and taught, her shoulders tense as if preparing for a fight. Her stance was anything but passive, showing that she was more than a simple woman of the court. Her fair hair fell in graceful waves just beyond her shoulders reaching the middle of her back. It was her eyes however, that Aragorn felt himself most entranced by. Fierce green eyes, that took in everything around her that seemed to penetrate to his very soul. He had never felt so vulnerable before a pair of eyes before yet the more he studied this woman the more felt at ease. It was as if the Lady Galadriel had taken another form as the woman who stood before him in the hall now. She took her eyes from Aragorn and bowed her head, removing herself as best she could from the hall; not wanting to meet anyone else's gaze. It was the woman he had seen at the dais, and for no reason other than a simple feeling, Aragorn knew that this woman was the one whom Eomer had spoken so fondly of.

Theoden's smile suddenly froze, as if he had suddenly remembered something for the first time. Aragorn looked towards Grima, knowing that his judgment would be swift.

Théoden lunged for the cowering man, grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the front door of Meduseld. Théoden threw him down the steps with as much force as he could muster and the people of Meduseld who had rushed to follow their king, did not feel pity for the man in the least.

"I've only…ever served you, my lord," Grima said scrambling to reclaim some of his dignity as he crawled away from Theoden's anger.

Théoden was relentless and continued to advance towards the sniveling fool, "Your leechcraft, would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your sight!" begged Grima as Théoden raised his sword above Grima's head as if he was ready to send Grima to his fate.

Théoden paused though, as a calm hand stopped his fatal blow, he looked in amazement, as did the rest of the court including Aragorn, as Lyrian looked to Théoden with calm eyes.

"No my lord," she said softly, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, "Enough blood has been spilt on his account."

Théoden looked at her in shock, yet Lyrian was far from finished.

In four short steps she lunged towards Grima, her eyes burning, and slapped his with enough force the sound echoed through the city.

Grima quaked before the enraged woman, his hand clasping his now burning face while Gandalf smiled; Grima finally got what was coming to his.

"You will _never_ touch me again." Lyrian spat her voice sharper than a blade cutting through Grima's soul.

Aragorn, who was standing closest to Grima, offered his hand in help, but Grima sneering at the man spit on his palm. Aragorn's eyes clenched shut as Grima scrambled to his feet and ran from Lyrian and Théoden, pushing people out of his way.

"Hail, Théoden King!" Aragorn called as soon as Grima was out of sight, bowing with the rest of the people of Edoras who were overjoyed to see their King once more.

Théoden looks back towards the Golden Hall observing everyone who now stood before him; there was one missing, "Where is Theodred?" he asked quietly, "Where is my son?"

* * *

Gandalf entered Theodred's room with caution, his body had already been prepared for his burial, yet a lone form still remained standing by his bed.

"I find it strange that a woman such as yourself gave up hope so quickly," he said watching her carefully, he had his suspicions as for the motives behind her actions yet he had to be sure, and with Lyrian, he knew she would never tell him outright. He had to be careful.

"That seems to be a matter of opinion," Lyrian said softly, not turning to face Gandalf or take her eyes from Theodred's still face.

"A matter of opinion my dear!" Gandalf said aghast, "You simply allowed yourself to become yet another one of Grima's puppets! What would Eomer have thought?"

Lyrian turned with such a fury that Gandalf himself felt both fear and respect for the amount of emotion that was rolling off her in waves.

"I had no choice," she spat, "I am not one to subject a lifetime of misery, not when I can stop it. Yes, I agreed to marry Grima. Yes. It was my idea. But I did it for Eowyn. Had I not agreed to marry Grima, it would have been her that he had ensnared. I had promised Eomer I would protect her at all costs, what kind of person would that have made me had I, knowing full well that Grima would have enslaved Eowyn, done nothing," she spat, unaware that a crowd of people now stood just beyond Gandalf listening to every word she said, Eowyn however, was not among them.

"I did it for Eowyn," Lyrian continued, now that she had begun to speak of what had transpired after Eomer had left, "I had to tell that to myself every day, because if I had done as you and everyone else would have liked, and sent word to Eomer, or as I was going to do, and kill myself so that Grima would never have me, he was going to kill Eowyn. I can only hope that if Eomer should hear of my decision, he will understand my reasoning behind it."

She stopped, utterly spent at the amount of anger she had spewed to Gandalf. As she calmed she looked at him more closely, noticing the faint smile that now occupied Gandalf's face.

"You already knew that," she said softly, defeated, "somehow, you already knew."

Gandalf nodded, "Yes, Lyrian, I already knew, I was not the only one that needed to hear it."

Lyrian looked for the first time past Gandalf, the Royal Guard, including her father stood before her with wide eyes, Théoden himself, who was hidden behind the guards hung his head in shame that such horrors had passed to someone he had held so dear.

Lyrian felt each of the guard's eyes on her, her father gazing at her with both pride and pity. She shoved herself through them trying to escape their intense stares.

Théoden reached out his hand to stop her as she brushed by him, "Lyrian-"

"I don't need your pity," She said, her eyes burning, "It was _my _choice."

Théoden watched her as she rushed from the hall, her back rigid and her held high.

* * *

The King's guard bore Theodred's armored body through the main city, to the burial mounds that lay just beyond the fort's gates. Théoden followed closely behind his mind completely overwrought with grief. The people of Edoras cried silently as they threw flowers in the path of the royal guards. Their city had seen too much grief in their lifetime, the death of the King's sister and brother in-law, and now the death of the King's son, was almost too much to bear.

Eowyn, as well as Lyrian who was dressed in a simple black dress and veil, awaited with the women of the court at Theodred's tomb. As the guards passed Eowyn, she began to sing the song of passing, in a heart wrenching tone.

_Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended_

_giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende _

_on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære _

_his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost. _

_Bealo..._

The strong stone doors slammed shut, enclosing Theodred in his tomb for eternity. Lyrian felt the women beside her crying yet for her, the grief was beyond tears and her face remained as impassive as the stone door that now stood between her and Theodred.

ASDFASDLFASDFASDF

Lyrian stood with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli at the gates of Edoras watching Gandalf and Théoden as he knelt by the tomb of his son.

Gimli looked at the woman before him; save for the Lady Galadriel, he had never been so bewitched by a woman before.

"It is true then," he said looking upon the confused woman in awe, "The Light of the Edoras is truly magnificent to behold."

Lyrian looked between Legolas and Gimli, "Light of the Edoras?"

Legolas looked at her with a bemused smile, "Surely you must know?" he said, "All of Rohan speaks of your beauty and loyalty to Rohan."

Lyrian laughed sadly, looking at Legolas and Gimli more closely, "I hope they speak of more than a pretty face," she said, "Forgive me, but do not believe we have been properly introduced yet."

Gimli stood up as straight as he could drawing himself up to his full height, "I am Gimli, son of Gloin," he expressed proudly.

Legolas smiled at his friend's act and turned to Lyrian with much less of an act, but with no less dignity and poise than expected by an elf, "I am Legolas, of the Woodland Realm," he said bowing to the woman before him, "At your service."

She was about to respond when something in the distance just reaching the crest of a hill caught her eye.

She walked past the three men trying to catch a better glimpse of what it was, when suddenly, a young boy who had been sitting upon the giant horse fell to the ground.

Lyrian took off running towards the boy and horse as Legolas followed while Gandalf quickly retrieved Théoden and returned to the Hall to prepare for the two new visitors. Whatever it was that brought them here was no doubt a troubled tale that Gandalf knew Théoden would need to hear.

* * *

Lyrian placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of the young boy and sat next to the young girl who was staring at her stew in confusion resulting from her overwhelming exhaustion.

Eowyn stood a slight distance away watching the tenderness with which Lyrian dealt with the young children.

"They had no warning," Lyrian said, her gaze fixed upon Théoden but was not unaware of every eye in the Hall now fixed upon her, "They were unarmed. Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick cot and tree."

The young girl beside Lyrian began to snuffle, "Where is Mama?"

"Sshh," Lyrian said, trying to settle the girl as she wrapped a blanket around her as well.

She looked back to Théoden who held his head in his hand not wishing to hear more of the horrors he had allowed to occur while he was under Saruman's spell.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf explained as Théoden raised his head, "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children," Gandalf placed a hand on the arm of Theoden's throne, "You must fight."

Aragorn stood standing beside Lyrian, "You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," he could feel her head snap up to face him as he continued, "Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their King."

Théoden stood up from his throne, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me," he paused as he looked at the children Lyrian was once again soothing as she tried to feign interest in hearing Eomer's name "but I will not bring further death to my people," he turned to Gandalf and Aragorn, "I will not risk open war."

Aragorn felt himself beginning to anger, "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."

"When last I looked…Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan"

Lyrian's head snapped up as she watched the exchange between the two men. She could feel the anger and frustration from Aragorn, yet he quietly backed away from the king bowing to him slightly as he did so.

Gandalf too turned towards Théoden, very aware of the tension in the air, "What is the king's decision?"

* * *

"My Lord! Please!" Lyrian, said as she rushed to catch up with him before he left the hall, "You mentioned Eomer, have you seen him?"

Aragorn smiled, "I must apologize my lady," he said softly, "When I first laid eyes upon you, there was no doubt in my mind that you were the woman Eomer spoke of, yet I have failed in giving his message to you. He is well my lady," Aragorn said noting the immense relief that swam over her features, and the very faint smile that brushed her lips yet disappeared in a flash.

Lyrian nodded her thanks and turned to walk away when Aragorn again spoke in his soft, soothing voice, "He rides for you Lyrian," he saw her stop, her back to him as she tried to process the words he had said, "the rest of the Eored, as well, I saw it in their eyes. They all ride for you."

Lyrian felt her heart swell, and she straightened her back and turned to Aragorn, "Thank you, Aragorn. Truly, I thank you."

Aragorn only nodded with a smile and left the Hall to follow Gandalf and the rest of his company.

* * *

Hama stood in the center of the fort calling out the King's orders to the frantic Rohirrim, "Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need!"

Gandalf sputtered around the people spewing his frustrations to the three behind him, "Helm's Deep," he muttered.

Gimli followed voicing his opinion as loudly as he always had, "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past," Aragorn tried to explain in his calm voice as they entered the bustling stables.

"There is no way out of that ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan," Gandalf turned to face Aragorn as he continued, "he will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you," He noticed Aragorn's deep breath, and nodded to a figure behind the group.

Aragorn turned to see Lyrian barking orders as loudly as the stable manager, yet she was doing about twice as much work as she was ordering.

"You will need her Aragorn," Gandalf said, "and Théoden, though I doubt he knows it," he paused looking at Aragorn sternly once more, "The defenses _have _to hold."

Aragorn nodded strongly, "They will hold."

Gandalf nodded as he stroked Shadofax, "The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain," He quickly mounted Shadofax as Aragorn stepped aside, "Look to my coming at the first light, on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

Aragorn nodded, "Go."

With slight encouragement from Gandalf, Shadofax lunged from the stables causing everyone in his path to jump out of the way. Aragorn could not help but watch his retreating form with a sense of loss. He could only trust that Gandalf would hold to his word. He would be looking for him


	11. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for sticking with this story, I know I have been very slow in my updates and I truly apologize. Hopefully this chapter will help you guys a little, I had a lot of trouble writing it so please let me know what you think of it!**

**Thank you again for all your interest and please enjoy!**

* * *

Aragorn took his saddle from the tack room, his thoughts consumed by the looming battle when he was jerked back to reality by heavy stomping and yelling. He looked up to see a large horse frantically tossing his head, his eyes white with fear and his sides heaving. Aragorn put his saddle against the wall and slowly made his way closer to the horse.

"Where is Fram?" one of the stable boys shouted desperately holding a rope attached to the wild horse.

"He doesn't have time for this, growled another, who reached out and grabbed a young boy running by, "fetch Lady Lyrian will you boy?"

The young boy nodded, his eyes almost as wide as the horse's as he dodged about the flying hooves and ran from the stables.

Aragorn continued to walk closer to the rearing stallion

"That horse is half mad my Lord, there's nothing you can do," said a passing soldier, "Leave him."

Aragorn acknowledged the soldier but did not stop easing towards the horse. The soldier walked away shaking his head at the Ranger's stupidity.

"Faste, stille nu, faste, stille nu," he said in a calm voice taking the rope from the stableman. The horse now glared at him wary of the newcomer.

"Lac is drefed, gafregon," he said slowly reaching up to stroke the horse's broad face, he took away another rope from the stableman as the horse calmed even more, "Hwaet nemnad de? Hm? Hwaet nemnad de?"

"His name is Brego," said a soft voice, Aragorn turned to see Lyrian watching him with a sad smile, "He was Theodred's horse."

"Brego," Aragorn said turning back to the horse in front of him, "Din nama is cynglic."

Lyrian watched Aragorn closely reminded of when she was a child.

"I remember you," Lyrian said softly as she too reached forward to stroke Brego's shoulder, "You visited Edoras when I was a child. You taught me more about horses in a month than Fram had taught me in a year."

Aragorn smiled remembering the bright eyed young girl who had followed him watching as he spoke to the horses. He had watched her speaking to her small pony in broken evlish before he had decided to take her under his wing.

"I am glad to see that you have not forgotten what I taught you," Aragorn said, "I hear you are desired more than Fram to calm the most troubled."

Lyrian nodded, "Fram is better than most but is not patient. Horses need just as much patience as a young child."

Aragorn nodded removing the ropes from Brego's halter.

"I never thought before," Lyrian started, "I have heard of the magic of the Elves, but I would not have looked for it in a Ranger from the North," Lyrian turned to look at Aragorn who smiled under her scrutinizing gaze, "You speak as one of their own."

Lyrian did not miss the distant longing in his eyes as she spoke.

"I was raised in Rivendell for a time," he said slowly, "Turn this horse free, he has seen enough of war."

Lyrian watched as he grabbed his saddle and left the two alone.

* * *

"Gandalf the White. Gandalf the Fool!" seethed Saruman slumped in his great chair, as Grima paced nervously in front of him, "Does he seek to humble me with he newfound piety?"

"There were three who followed the wizard," he said, trying to worm his way out of punishment, "An Elf, a Dwarf and a Man."

Saruman wrinkled his nose, "You stink of horse," he said plainly looking up at Grima for the first time since he entered the chamber, "Good Lord, what have you done to your face?" he asked though not a hint of pity in his voice.

Grima's jaw tightened his thoughts brought back to Lyrian, "A bitch," he said, laughing mirthlessly, "A bitch with claws."

Saruman raised an eyebrow, humored by the fact that a woman had humbled his spineless servant.

"The man…" he said, turning his thoughts back to Rohan, "was he from Gondor?"

Grima pressed a wetted cloth against his cheek, wincing in pain as the water burned the skin, "No, from the north. One of the Dunedain Rangers, I thought he was," he said examining his race in a mirror, "His cloth was poor. And yet he bore a strange ring, two serpents with emerald eyes…one devouring the other crowned with golden flowers."

Saruman was now keenly interested in Grima's account of Rohan and moved to retrieve a book of his dusty shelf.

"The Ring of Barahir," he mused looking at an old drawing, "So Gandalf Greyhame thinks he has found Isildur's heir. The lost King of Gondor," his fingers absently stroked the face of the ring, "He is a fool. That line was broken years ago."

Saruman slammed the book shut, "It matters not. The world of Men shall fall. It will begin at Edoras."

* * *

Eowyn burst into the main hall of Edoras, her eyes searching for the chest she had misplaced that morning. With a sigh of relief she rushed towards a single chest sitting in the middle of the hall.

She carefully lifted the lid, looking cautiously around the hall for her uncle before removing a light but strong sword. She quickly unsheathes it, looking longingly at the blade as her thoughts turned to better days, when she and her brother were children and would spar with Lyrian.

Eowyn stopped herself from delving too deep into her memories; they were far too painful. She lunged gently swinging the sword before her, relishing in the feeling of holding a blade again. She turned around, using her momentum to behead an invisible foe when her blade was stopped with a loud clang.

She startled but instantly calmed when her eyes were met with the calm brown eyes of Aragorn.

"You have some skill with a blade," he said in his soothing voice.

Eowyn swallowed thickly, trying to regain control of her bearings, she swung her sword quickly and with purpose releasing it from Aragorn's knife before she sheathed it.

"Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords can still die upon them," she said, trying to keep her eyes from becoming trapped by the depth of Aragorn's.

Aragorn chuckled, "I find it hard to believe that Theoden, would have allowed his niece to actively learn the sword."

Eowyn smiled, "It was Lyrian who convinced him actually, when Eomer left she became bored and sought to teach me all that she knew," Eowyn sighed placing her sword back on the trunk, "I thought I knew her."

Aragorn shoved his knife back into its sheath, "You judge Lyrian too harshly my lady," he said, his voice slightly sharper than it had been before, "she was brave to have chosen the fate that she did."

Eowyn turned to Aragorn angrily, "Do not tell me she did it out of a sense of duty for her country," she seethed bitterly.

Aragorn felt his temper slowly rising but only looked more pointedly at Eowyn, "She did not agree to marry Grima out of duty, she agreed to marry Grima out of love."

Eowyn opened her mouth to speak but Aragorn continued.

"She married Grima out of the love she had for you."

Eowyn felt her stomach drop, "What do you mean?"

"Grima was going to force your hand in marriage, when Lyrian had heard of this, she could not stand to see you trapped in such a loveless marriage and she volunteered her hand to spare yours."

Eowyn felt shame quickly consume her entire being, the pain that she had seen in Lyrian's eyes when she had confronted her had not been false, "Why did she not tell me?"

Aragorn smiled sadly, glad to see that the brash young woman before him had finally begun to understand the reasoning behind Lyrian's actions, "Grima held her to her promise by your death, if she had uttered a word, and he would have killed you without hesitation."

Eowyn felt her eyes began to tear, "And to think," she said softly, "I had caused her even more pain."

Aragorn felt a pang of pity for Eowyn, "I had the pleasure of knowing Lyrian as a child," he said softly in an effort to comfort Eowyn, "one thing I will always remember of her, is her willingness to forgive."

Aragorn looked at Eowyn who sat now with a new resolve, contemplating all that she had been told. With a slight nod, Aragorn left, leaving Eowyn alone in a sea of guilt.

Eowyn looked up after he was gone, watching the empty space where he had been waiting in a sense for him to return and offer counsel, but she knew that she must amend her own actions.

She stood up from the chest and straightened her gown, with the uncertainty of the future; she could not afford to let her actions wound her friend any longer.

She pushed herself through the constant stream of people entering the Hall, knowing from experience, that there was only one place Lyrian would be at a time like this. Eowyn walked through the scurrying people of Rohan her eyes watching them for what seemed like the first time, they were all afraid, as they had every right to be, and yet they trusted her uncle with such faith that he would not lead them astray. Eowyn could feel her stomach clench as she neared the stables, she could see the flurry of movement inside, like a beehive.

Eowyn took a deep breath and entered, knowing that Lyrian was most likely tending to Lightfoot. Sure enough the figure of her friend and mentor could be seen among the stable boys and soldiers, carrying her saddle while urging the men to move faster, and dressed like any common man. Lyrian walked closer to her horse and froze when she saw Eowyn standing, somewhat out of place and with a look of both regret and anger upon her face.

Lyrian quickly recovered and moved to put her saddle on Lightfoot who was eyeing Eowyn warily as if she knew the distress the young woman had caused her rider.

"Aragorn told me what you did," Eowyn said flatly, trying her best to remain calm, but as a relation to Eomer, it was nearly impossible, "Why did you do it?"

Lyrian said nothing, and only focused more intently on the strappings of her horse's tack.

Eowyn was not deterred by Lyrian's cold shoulder and moved to stand directly in front of her, trying her best to ignore the angered snorts from her horse.

"Why Lyrian?" she repeated, "I am just as strong as you I did not need your protection, I could have suffered through a life with Grima just as you!"

Lyrian turned to Eowyn with a fire in her eyes that her friend had not seen in a long time, in a way, Lyrian's temper was comforting, it was a sign that Eowyn's friend had returned, but at the same time, it was utterly terrifying for Lyrian had a temper that could match Eomer on his worst day.

"Your brother would die protecting you," Lyrian said, using every ounce of control he had to not scream at Eowyn, "I would do no less."

Eowyn looked at Lyrian with an emotion that Lyrian could not place, "What about you Lyrian?" Eowyn asked, "Who is protecting you."

Lyrian chuckled darkly at this comment, "I, Eowyn, am not the last remaining heir to the throne, should anything happen-"

Eowyn watched Lyrian falter her eyes betraying the constant fear that she tried so hard to mask.

"If anything should happen to Eomer, you are the people's last hope."

Eowyn felt any feeling of anger she had for Lyrian quickly disappear at the desperate look in her eyes. Eowyn lunged forward and pulled Lyrian into a tight hug, Lyrian stood stiff for a moment unsure of quite how to respond.

"Do not give up hope," Eowyn said quietly, "Eomer will come back."

She held her friend at arms distance, a sly smile gracing her face, "It would take more than a whole army or orcs to keep him from you.

Lyrian watched as Eowyn walked away, a slightly confused expression, but she could not ignore the soft flutter her stomach took at the young woman's words.

* * *

Eowyn chuckled as Gimli continued his description of his dwarfish home. The people of Edoras had been walking for two days now, Eowyn who was tired of sitting atop a horse, now led the small mare that Gimli sat upon telling rather colorful tales of his homeland.

"Its true, you don't see many Dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, that they're often mistaken for Dwarf men!" Gimli explained excitedly.

Eowyn laughed softly looking back to Aragorn in disbelief.

"It's the beards" he mimed gesturing to an imaginary beard on his chin.

"This, in turn," Gimli continued completely unaware of the exchange between Eowyn and Gimli, "has given rise to the belief that that are no Dwarf women! And that Dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!"

Eowyn laughed loudly at the thought of dwarves simply rising from the ground fully formed. Gimli laughed too glad to be the cause of the fine young woman's laughter.

"…Which is, of course, ridiculous," he said throwing his hands up as if to emphasize the point.

The horse, startled by the sudden movement of its rider sprang out over the plains throwing the hardy elf to the ground. Eowyn's eyes widened in shock and she ran over to see if the dwarf was all right.

Aragorn smiled as he heard Gimli trying to cover his fumble, "Its all right. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate!"

Eowyn helped Gimli stand to his feet laughing as she looked back to her uncle.

Theoden smiled at the scene before him, "I have not seen my niece smile for a long time. She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by orcs. She watched her mother succumb to grief."

Aragorn noted the sadness that still remained with Theoden at the death of his sister.

"Then she was left alone," he said bitterly, "to tend to her king in growing fear. Doomed to wait upon an old man who should have loved her as her father."

Aragorn looked behind him, and smiled at the light of Lyrian being chased by a group of children. He turned back to Theoden still smiling, "Eowyn was not alone."

Theoden looked back as well just in time to see Lyrian as she was tackled to the ground by the children.

"No, she wasn't alone."

The two rode in silence for a moment before Aragorn spoke again.

"Eomer speaks highly of the Lady, she is well respected among the people."

Theoden nodded, "Since she was a child, it has been impossible for anyone not to lover her. She has always been a shining light in this darkening world. She and Eomer grew up together, they have been each other's support through this evil time."

Aragorn nodded knowing that there was more to Théoden's words than what he was saying, but knew it was not his place to question.

* * *

Eowyn walked through the makeshift camp, a pot of steaming stew that she had made herself sat hooked on her arm.

"Gimli?" she asked trying to offer him some of her creation.

It was all that Gimli could do not to grimace as he leant towards the pot, "No," he said as kindly as he could, "I couldn't I really couldn't,"

Eowyn nodded when her eyes caught sight of Aragorn cleaning his sword some distance away from the rest of the people. Nodding to Gimli she pushed past him and approached Aragorn, somewhat timidly.

"I made some stew," she said offering him a bowl, not allowing him a chance to refuse her, "It isn't much, but its hot," she said giving him the steaming bowl.

Aragorn looked at her a bemused smile across his face, "Thank you," he said as he lifted a spoonful to his mouth, desperately trying to mask his body's wish to expel the food he had just placed in, "its good," he said forcing himself to swallow.

"Really?" Eowyn said elated, a wide smile on her face as she turned to bring her stew to others.

As soon as her back was turned Aragorn quickly moved to dump the contents of the bowl onto the ground but Eowyn turned back startling Aragorn and causing a large portion of the steaming liquid to spill on his hand. He clenched his teeth as the stew burned his hand, but looked towards Eowyn waiting for her to speak.

"My uncle told me a strange thing," she started, "He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather, but he must be mistaken."

Aragorn smiled remembering the strong king, "King Theoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Eowyn's eyes widened in shock, "Then you must be at least sixty?"

Aragorn shifted in his seat, a bit embarrassed as she tried to guess his age.

"Seventy?" she asked, her disbelief growing, and with no answer from Aragorn, "But you cannot be 80!"

Aragorn looked towards the ground, "Eighty-seven," he said softly.

Realization suddenly dawned on Eowyn, "You are one of the Dunedain. A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend," she finished in almost a whisper, in utter awe that she was standing before such legend.

"There are few of us left," Aragorn said softly, sadness evident in his voice, "The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

Eowyn realized once again that she had spoken to quickly, "I'm sorry," she said, "Please, eat."

Aragorn looked at her unable to tell whether or not she actually knew what her stew tasted like before she left to attend to others who were gathered about in the camp.

Lyrian smiled at Aragorn's distress and walked towards him careful that Eowyn was far enough from earshot before she spoke. "She may be able to wield a sword, but it is when she wields a spoon that she is truly dangerous," she said with a half smile handing Aragorn a chunk of bread and cheese.

"She has never been able to cook anything salvageable."

"It was not that bad," Aragorn said trying to be kind.

Lyrian laughed, though it did not escape his notice that the smile did not reach her eyes, which still remained empty as if a part of her were missing, "She will never make a cook."

Aragorn smirked taking a bite of bread as he looked at Lyrian, "What of you my lady?" he asked softly, his eyes drilling through her.

Lyrian met his gaze with a dry smile, "Me lord Aragorn?" she asked, "I am nothing more than a bowman on a horse."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully, "I think you are much more than a simple bowman on a horse," he said looking at her cryptically.

Lyrian's brows furrowed as she tried to understand what it was exactly that Aragorn meant by his words.

Eomer and his company galloped hard across the plains. They had been tracking a pack of mounted orcs from Isengard. AS they reached the top of a hill, Eomer felt his heart stop. Before him lay a field of dead and dying soldiers. Men that he had grown up with now lay their blood soaking deep into the earth. He slowly dismounted as Elfhelm called back to the rest of the eored.

"Search for survivors!"

The riders, as saddened by the scene before them, dismounted and began to search through the bodies.

Eomer however stood stunned, unable to move as he recognized the men that lay beneath him. These men bore the banner of Edoras, the royal banners. Eomer walked through the field, filled with dread at what he knew he would find.

"My Lord Eomer!" one of his riders called.

Eomer's head jerked up toward the voice seeing a rider kneeling on the ground. As Eomer neared him, his heart stopped.

Theoden lay gasping for breath next to several orcs. Eomer fell to his knees, "I need water and a healer!" he called desperation barely masked by the growing rage in his voice, "Where is Leofred?"

The surrounding riders rushed to carry out his orders and the healer ran around the dead bodies to the fallen king.

"Eomer…"Theoden said weakly, Eomer immediately turned back to the king his brows furrowed with masked grief.

"Do not talk," he said quietly as the healer checked under the king's armor. His grim look did not escape Eomer's notice. The rest of the riders had stopped their search and now stood with their heads bowed as their king took his final breaths.

"No…" Theoden gasped, "Lyrian," Eomer's head whipped back to Theoden, "I lost her…"

Eomer felt any hope he had leave him with those words. His stomach dropped and he could feel his world begin to crumble. He stood not whishing to leave the king, but Lyrian now lay somewhere on these very fields.

"Lyrian!

Eomer jerked awake covered in a cold sweat and his chest heaving as he fought to get his breath under control.

"Eomer?" asked Elfhelm as he gazed at his startled captain, Eomer looked towards him, the fear that Elfhelm had seen in his eyes faded as quickly as it had come.

"Our scouts have returned."

Eomer nodded rising from his pallet on the ground, sheathing his sword and knife. His head was bent downwards as the images from his very vivid dream coursed through his head.

"Speak quickly," Eomer barked when he reached the scouts.

The scouts were weary, weary of riding day in and day out with no place to call home, yet when they looked upon Eomer's anxious face, all their complaints were forgotten. They were men loyal to Rohan, and they rode with their brave captain fighting the ever-growing darkness.

"Thousands of orcs were seen moving south from Isenguard," one reported.

Eomer's face did not change yet his mind was whirling knowing that either the state he had last seen Theoden, the people of Rohan were vulnerable to attack. He wearily rubbed his face as if that simple action would wipe away the constant fear he felt for his people.

The riders stood waiting for Eomer's decision knowing that any hope they had of a full nights sleep had disappeared with the arrival of the scouts.

"We ride for Edoras!" Edoras shouted moving to saddle Firefoot, "If Saruman wishes to conquer Rohan, that is where he will start."

Eomer looked across the empty plains of Rohan at the rising sun hoping Lyrian was able to see it too.

* * *

Eowyn noticed for the first time the jeweled necklace that Aragorn wore around his neck. It was a delicate thing, elven made with crystals that shimmered with the light of the pale moon on a summer's eve.

"Where is she?" Eowyn asked cautiously, watching Aragorn carefully, "The woman who gave you that jewel."

Aragorn's hand tightened on his horse's reigns but he did not say anything for a time. His eyes were distant, as if he had lost all sight of what lay before him.

"My lord?" Eowyn asked gently.

Aragorn sighed, as his thoughts were brought back to the bleak reality he now faced, "She is sailing to the Undying Lands with all that is left of her kin."

Aragorn looked up as both Hama and Gamling rode past the pair, a determined look upon their face. Aragorn could not explain it, but he knew something was wrong.

Gamling reigned his horse to a stop next to his friend, "What is it?" he asked, hoping that his friend was only being over cautious, "Hama?" he urged.

"I'm not sure," Hama said his eyes never ceasing in their survey of the land.

The softest shifting of rock caused Gamling to look to the rock face above them.

"Wargs!"

The foul beast leapt from the cliff his rider baring his teeth at the two scouts. Hama yelled drawing his sword as the warg leapt towards him.

"Hama!" screamed Gamling as he watched his friend as the warg pummeled him off his horse.

Gamling leapt of his mount, sword drawn but it was too late, in three strides, he stood before the snarling beast, but Hama was no more. The orc rider turned his attention to Gamling. The orc sneered as Gamling angrily swung his sword effectively removing his head.

Gamling turned to see what had become of the warg itself in time to see Legolas removing an arrow from its neck as Aragorn reached the crest of the hill.

"A scout!" Legolas called restringing his bow and running out of the small valley. Aragorn ran back towards the Rohirrim, failing to mask any of his fear.

"What is it?" called Theoden, "What do you see?"

Aragorn did not stop as he ran towards his horse, "Wargs! We're under attack!"

Lyrian felt her stomach plummet, the people of Edoras were vulnerable, and there were so few riders with them she quickly pulled herself onto her horse conscious of the Rohirrim's panic behind her.

"All riders to the head of the column!" Theoden called.

Lyrian looked at the people behind her, the fear in the eyes of the children as their mothers held them close, knowing that if the riders failed, it would be the last time they would hold them.

"Come on. Get me up here," Gimli grumbled as he struggled to mount his horse, "I'm a rider. Come on!"

Lyrian pulled her horse from the column and moved to the front pulling her word from the sheath on her saddle.

Eowyn moved to get onto her own horse until Theoden approached her.

"Eowyn!" he called trying to get her attention, "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep, and make haste."

Eowyn's jaw tightened, "I can fight!" she said angrily, it had not escaped her notice that Lyrian was riding towards the front.

"No! You must do this, for me."

Eowyn stared at Theoden for a moment before she turned, she knew now was not the time to argue.

Theoden nodded at her and turned towards the rest of the rides, Lyrian being one of them waiting for his orders, "Follow me!"

Aragorn pulled himself onto his horse sparing one last glance towards the women and children his eyes making contact with Eowyn, before he pulled his horse away and galloped after Theoden.

Legolas stood calmly firing arrow after arrow towards the hundreds of wargs that now came rushing towards him.

Lyrian pulled her bow from the side of her saddle and began firing arrow after arrow towards the wargs. Theoden could not help but watch her as if it was the first time he had ever seen her. Her shots were nowhere near as fast as Legolas's but she shot with a deadly accuracy, her face set with grim determination and an odd sense of calm. She truly was no longer the little girl who chased Theodred through the halls of Meduseld.

Lyrian pushed Lightfoot forward, her body so in tune with her horse, that she needed only to nudge her knee and she would turn. She could not keep the grin from her face as she shot another warg down, his sudden stop causing the death of his rider.

"Bring your pretty face to my axe!" came Gimli's gruff voice from the middle of the field.

Lyrian turned her horse towards him and was comforted that the strong dwarf was still fighting strong. Her attention was quickly grabbed by a passing warg who she shot dead without a moments thought. When she turned back to find Gimli again she saw him trapped under the bodies of a warg and his rider. Lyrian was not the only one to notice this as a warg turned away from his feast of a dead soldier and slowly made his way over to the moving pile of carcasses.

Lyrian brought Lightfoot around, one sweaty hand gripping her reins so hard she was sure to have the imprints of the leather on her hands for a while. She pushed forward and plucked a spear from the body of a warg and with all her strength she threw it towards the warg grinning as she saw it fall dead. She looked to make sure that Gimli was still alive, but it was in that moment that she was thrown from her saddle with such force, she lay on the ground dazed for a moment desperately trying to get her bearings as an orc loomed over her. She thrust her leg around sweeping the creatures legs out from under him. She scrambled away, frantically trying to stand and get her hands on any form of weapon that was close to her. The orc, unlike in her spars with Eomer, was mostly unfazed by the fall was soon stalking towards her again.

Lyrian yelled in frustration he swung towards her head; her sword had been lost when she had fallen from her saddle, and she was left utterly defenseless. She rolled away from another hard swing and could feel her anger growing; she could not die like this. She picked up her head, her jaw clenched in determination that she would kill the orc with her bare hands if she had to when her eyes landed on a rusty black orc sword. She could sense the orc moving behind her, stepping close ready to strike the killing blow. Lyrian grabbed the sword in front of her and lunged forward thrusting the sword into the orcs stomach, her heart pounding as she watched the life slowly drain from his eyes as he glowered at her. She stared at him for a moment, her chest heaving as the adrenaline left her body, and her hand dropped from the sword, shaking horribly. She scuttled away from the orc, trying to distance herself as much as possible from the filth, but in her haste, she had collided with the body of a dead soldier. Lyrian pulled her hand away in horror, the back of her hand against her mouth trying to stifle the yell that clawed at her throat wanting to escape while she simultaneously fought to keep her breakfast. She took a few breaths before she looked away from the dead body, to see the array of death that surrounded her.

Lyrian stood up cautiously. Now that the wargs lay dead, she was suddenly aware of the many bruises that she had acquired. She glanced around the open field saddened by the number of soldiers that lay dead but she was relieved at least for the moment that they had been victorious. The women and children would be able to reach Helm's Deep safely.

She started walking back to her horse who was pawing the ground restlessly still skittish after his first real battle. Lyrian scanned the field once more, something was wrong. She could see Theoden who was still seated upon his horse and Gamling, though slightly worse for wear, was next to the king as well. Lyrian felt her heart drop.

Where was her father?

She frantically searched the bodies that lay on the ground; her father should have been standing by the king.

"No, no, no," Lyrian whispered desperately to herself. There was only one reason that Hama would not be standing with the king and she couldn't bear to let herself even think of it.

Theoden dismounted as if he had aged thirty years, the weight of the death settled on his shoulders like chains. He sighed, resting his head against his horse's neck trying for a moment, to block out the groans of pain from the wounded.

"PAPA!"

The scream ripped its way through every man that was still alive as Lyrian rushed toward her father. Theoden clenched his eyes shut; this was his fault, if he had not allowed Grima so close to him-

Theoden stood, his face stoic, no more would he wallow in self pity, the men needed to see their king strong.

He walked with purpose towards the edge of the battlefield. No matter what his outward façade had portrayed, nothing could be done to stop the heart-wrenching scene that lay before him.

Lyrian lay on the ground, her head resting against her father's chest clinging to him as if by sheer force, she would pull him back from the dead. Her sobs echoed over the desolate plain yet from where Theoden stood, he saw no tears, as if she had simply experienced too much grief; there were no more tears to spare.

He knelt down, as saddened by the loss of a friend as she was of the loss of her father and placed his hand on her shoulder drawing her up.

"Come now Lyrian," he said stiffly, trying not to let his grief show. He felt himself tremble at the blank look in her eyes.

"We must leave this place, Helm's Deep stands defenseless," he tried to reason but even Theoden felt the hollowness in his words.

Lyrian nodded, her eyes turning back to her father. Theoden watched as she slowly leaned towards her father and kissed his forehead. She moved to stand, but her legs failed her. She crumpled to the ground in a heap and Theoden could see her will crumbling. He stood and offered her his hand. Lyrian looked towards him, her eyes endless wells of grief, her hope dwindling, yet she reached forward, her hand shaking, and grasped Théoden's hand.

* * *

**Please let me know if you liked this chapter, it was really hard for me to write because honestly i am really excited for when Eomer and Lyrian reunite. Spolier...it will be absolutely beautiful!**


	12. Chapter 10

**I have been bitten by the writing bug and can definitely see the end of part one coming by the end of the week. so YAY! Please let me know what you think of this chapter I am trying to develop the relationship between Eomer and Lyrian as naturally and gradual as I can. Let me know if you like this, or if you think I am going to slow. I promise, that Lyrian and Eomer will be reunited in the next chapter, where you will also see her kick some orc a**! Thank you to all who reviewed my last chapter! they really help me crank out the next chapter quicker.**

**If I do not update before, I hope you all have a very awesome easter!**

**Please enjoy!**

_**(Italics are spoken in elvish)**_

* * *

Eowyn felt herself breath freely as she stepped through the massive gates at Helm's Deep.

"At last!" the people of Rohan cried out as they entered their beloved stronghold, "Helm's Deep!"

A very weary woman turned to Eowyn, her eyes overflowing with relief, "We're safe my lady," she said, a rare smile gracing her face, "Thank you."

Eowyn sent a reassuring nod towards the woman, but her calculating eyes took in everything around her. The people of Edoras were not the only ones to take refuge in Helm's Deep. Everywhere she turned people were piled against one another. Families sat huddled among the steps trying to make a place to sleep because there was simply no room. Even the rats were finding it hard to find places among the humans where they could scavenge for food.

Food. That was another issue, Eowyn was taken by several guards who brought her to see the remaining stores of food.

"Where is the rest?" Eowyn asked, shocked that there could be so little.

"This is all we could save, my lady."

Eowyn clenched her eyes shut, as if in doing so she could erase the struggle her people were about to face. She took a deep breath, longing now more than ever that her brother were beside her, and Lyrian as well for that matter. Lyrian always knew what to do. The fact that there was hardly any food would be of no consequence to Lyrian, she could keep the people alive with nothing more than a smile. Eowyn had no such skill, she had not spent as much time among the people as Lyrian had and she feared the people of Rohan would suffer now because of it.

She took a calming breath, "Take it to the caves," she said calmly, there was nothing more to do, but she would not let her people suffer.

* * *

Lyrian stared ahead of her, her eyes blank as the quiet company of soldiers made their way to Helm's Deep. Her face was set like stone, yet her emotions were coursing through her in waves, offering no respite as her mind forced her to see her father's mangled body on the ground, his eyes staring into the sky in fright, never again would they glimmer when he laugh, nor smolder when he caught her training.

A sigh turned her attention to Legolas and Gimli, who rode beside her, some distance from the rest of the company unwilling to spread their grief on their fellow companions. Lyrian sighed, pulling herself to the harsh reality she was now faced with. No good would come out of her mourning of her father, she had to focus on what lie ahead. Her time for mourning would come, but now, she had to be strong.

She smiled a sad smile, remembering the words she had once told someone who had lost his mother, she spoke quietly and calmly only loud enough for Legolas and Gimli to hear.

"I remember telling Eomer," she began slowly catching the attention of Legolas, "that we should not mourn for those we have lost, for we were blessed to have shared time with them in this world," she did not turn but she saw Legolas' deep in though, "we must celebrate the time we shared with the ones we have lost, not grieve over the time we will not be able to share with them."

Legolas smiled softly at this, "You never cease to amaze me," he said looking at Lyrian with renewed interest, there was more strength to this woman than in any he had seen before.

There was silence among the small group for a moment as they continued across the plain, they were moving at a slower place due to the many overburdened horses that were carrying several riders.

"What is your home like Legolas?" Lyrian asked.

Legoals looked towards Lyrian in surprise, "My home?"

Lyrian nodded, "I have heard much of the bearded dwarf women who live in Gimli's homeland, but you have said very little of your homeland."

"What is there to speak of but of elves who live in trees," Gimli grumbled somewhat affronted that she had not asked to hear more of his homeland, but was greatful for the distraction from the thoughts he could be consumed with.

Legolas rode for a moment thoughtful he had not seen his homeland for some time, "Gimli is right," he began, "the trees are thick and plentiful, but their roots run deep much older than any trees you have seen before so old, they make me feel young. In the spring we sing and dance, the trees often so quiet are filled with light and music-" Legolas drifted off in deep thought of what he had left behind.

Lyrian smiled, trying to picture the very proper Legolas dancing with elven maidens in the light of the forrest, "I would very much like to see your home Legolas,"

Gimli grunted, "Mirkwood," he grumbled, Lyrian looked to him with a bemused smile, "when this wretched war is over," Gimli continued, "I will bring you to the Lonely Mountain, there you can feast your eyes on the halls of the Dwarves."

Lyrian laughed softly, "When this war is over, I will hold you to your word master Gimli."

A cry went up at the front of the column, they had arrived at Helm's Deep. Lyrian tightened her grip on the reigns; there would be many families whose lives would be changed forever as their loved one remained on the plains of Rohan, having perished so that they may live.

* * *

Eowyn sat against a crate, trying to find what little peace she could. She had been walking among the many people who were crammed into the fort for majority of the day, seeing to it that what needs that could be taken care of were. The Rohirrim were hungry, Eowyn could see it as the rations that were handed out grew smaller and smaller, but Eowyn continued as best she could to bring some form of hope to her people. She picked at a pulled thread in her skirt, she had not the time to change since her arrival to Helm's Deep nor the desire, there was simply too much to be done. Now however, she found herself alone, in a quiet corner in the keep, with only her thoughts to keep her company.

"Make way for the king!" came a cry from the front of the keep. Eowyn stood up running to the main courtyard of the keep her heart lifted significantly with the return of her uncle.

"Make way for Theoden!" Gamling shouted riding next to Theoden, "Make way for the king!"

Eowyn rushed towards her Uncle's company, her eyes searching the riders who had returned, "So few," she said breathlessly, "So few of you have returned."

Theoden refused to look her in the eyes, what would she say if she realized how much he had failed his people? He could not allow her to see the guilt he carried with him, "Our people are safe," he said simply helping a wounded soldier from his horse, "We have paid for it with many lives."

Gimli saw Eowyn searching through the crowd, he knew exactly which face she was searching for, "My lady," he said, barely able to say anymore, the small moment of happiness he had felt speaking to Lyrian disappeared at the sight of the anguish in Eowyn's face.

"Lord Aragorn," she said, her stomach dropping, knowing exactly what Gimli was about to say.

"He fell," Gimli said simply, there was no use searching for fancy words to ease the woman's pain.

Eowyn took a deep breath, trying not to show how much the news had affected her though she was keenly aware of the fact that nothing had escaped Gimli's notice, "What of Lyrian?" she asked, slightly more frantic for she had not seen her friend among the riders, "do not tell me she has fallen too."

Gimli shook his head somberly and nodded towards a rather ragged looking soldier who still stood tending to his horse. Upon her second glance, Eowyn recognized the soldier as Lyrian, who looked slightly worse for wear, but unharmed. Eowyn went to push past Gimli but was stopped suddenly by his large hand upon her arm.

"Be careful my lady," Gimli said, in a tenderness Eowyn would never have expected from him, "her father is one of the fallen."

Eowyn looked to her friend with renewed greif. Lyrian stood with her forehead resting against Lightfoot's muzzle, who looked as if she were trying to comfort her rider.

"Lyrian!" Eowyn called rushing towards her friend and pulling her into a tight hug, she could feel Lyrian tense before she too embraced Eowyn, "I was so afraid I would never see you again!" Eowyn said holding her friend out at arms length looking to ensure that she was in fact unharmed.

Lyrian gave a tired smile, "have you such little faith in my ability to hold a sword?"

Eowyn glared at Lyrian, "Have you such little faith in mine? You should have told me you were riding! How did you manage past my uncle-"

"Eowyn," Lyrian said cutting her off, "we have been through this before, your duty is to your people, if you had ridden with the king and I, who would have led the people to Helm's Deep?"

Eowyn sighed, she would never admit it but she understood the logic behind her friend's words.

Theoden stood overlooking the Deeping Wall as hundreds of families continued to enter Helm's Deep searching for refuge against the looming battle.

"Draw all our forces behind the wall," he said, "Bar the gate. And set a watch on the surround."

Gamling followed Theoden as he returned to the main hall of the keep, "What of those who cannot fight, my lord?" he asked, wishing as he had often had riding towards Helm's Deep that Hama was still alive, "The women and children?"

Theoden paused knowing that victory at Helm's Deep was very fragile, it would be a long and hard battle, and he could not have the women and children harmed, "Get them into the caves," he said, as he walked across the courtyard, "Saruman's arm will have grown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here."

* * *

Grima pushed a wet cloth against the angry red inflamed skin on his cheek, "Helm's Deep has one weakness. Its outer wall is solid rock," he said poking his bruise with his finger, cringing at the pain that the wretched woman had caused, "but for a small culvert at its base," he continued, still unable to look away from the mirror he was gazing into, "which is little more than a drain."

He turned when Saruman had said nothing, and grabbed a candle to inspect what he was making.

"How can fire undo stone?" he asked leaning over the cauldron of black powder with his candle.

Saruman looked at him in disgust and a twinge of fear as he pushed the candle far away from the black powder that he had poured into the spiked cauldron.

"What have you been doing to your face?" Saruman asked again with silent amusement as he called out his servant's failure again.

Grima turned a bright red as he rubbed his cheek again with his sleeve trying to rub the pain away, "What kind of device could bring down the wall?" he asked, still not believing that noting more than powder could bring down the mighty fortress of the Hornburg.

"If the wall is breached," Saruman said turning from the Hall, "Helm's Deep will fall."

Grima rolled his eyes as he followed his master out of the gloomy room, "Even if it _is _breached, it would take a number beyond reckoning…thousands to strom the keep," Grima argued for the countless time as he followed Saruman onto his balcony.

"Tens of thousands," agreed Saruman.

"But, my lord," Grima countered exhaustedly, "there _is_ no such force!"

Saruman simply stepped onto the balcony to a deafening roar as Grima walked behind him. Grima stared in disbelief at the thousands of Uruk-hai armies that stood below Saruman's tower hungry for war. Grima swallowed thickly, for the first time feeling pity for the fate he had brought on the people of Rohan.

"A new power is rising!" Saruman called to his armies, "Its victory is at hand!"

The Uruk-hai roared and Grima felt himself tremble.

"This night…the land will be stained with the blood of Rohan! March to Helm's Deep! Leave no one alive!" Saruman yelled as Grima stared at him with wonder, he had never seen such evil in his master's eyes before. He knew that Saruman wished for the defeat of the ROhirric people, but the pure evil that he now saw in his eyes was too much.

"TO WAR!"

* * *

Lryian stood up trying to stretch the tight muscles in her back; she had been carrying belongings into the caves of the many families who were currently trying to settle into their temporary homes.

"What are you doing now Lassie?" Gimli asked her shocked that this woman had not stopped moving since she reached Helm's Deep.

"It helps keep my mind off of things," she said simply lifting another heavy crate just as her stomach emitted a large growl.

Lyrian's eyes widened in embarrassment as Gimli laughed a loud and raunchy laugh, "You have been so busy you have forgotten to eat," he said still laughing as he took the crate from her arms and began to pull her towards the main hall, "Lets go lassie," he said, "It is time you stopped taking care of everyone else and took some time for yourself."

Lyrian, too tired and hungry to argue followed Gimli through the growing crowd at the gate of the Keep.

"He's alive!" a woman called out.

Both Lyrian and Gimli jerked towards the woman, smiles consuming their faces as they saw Aragorn slide off a horse. Lyrian did not miss the terrible shape Aragorn was in, but Gimli could not be stopped and shoved through the people between him and Aragorn.

"Where is he? Where is he?" he said shoving through the crowd, "Get out of the way! I'm going to kill him," he said as he finally stopped in front of Aragorn, "You are the luckiest, the canniest," Gimli said gesturing at Aragorn as he smiled, "and the most reckless man I ever knew."

Gimli pulled him into a rough hug, still unable to believe that Aragorn was once again standing in front of him in the flesh, "Bless you laddie!" he cried, "Bless you!"

Aragorn pulled himself from Gimli, "Gimli," Aragorn asked, his eyes somber, "Where is the king?"

Gimli nodded toward the main hall and Aragorn, with one last pat on Gimli's back, set off to speak with Theoden. Lyrian tried her best to follow him, but the crowd closed quickly behind him cutting off her path and she, as Gimli did, had to push her way through the crowd.

"Lyrian?" Eowyn called turning from an elderly woman she had been caring for, "What is the hurry?"

Lyrian smiled, though it was a small smile, it was the first real smile Eowyn had seen since her brother was banished.

"Aragorn has returned!" Lyrian said excitedly pulling the great door open to follow Aragorn inside.

"A great host you say?" she heard Theoden ask.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn confirmed.

"How many?" Theodred asked, wishing that the situation sounded worse than it actually was.

"Ten thousand strong at least," Aragorn said breathlessly, his shoulders slumped as if the news was only now dawning on him.

"Ten thousand?" Theoden asked, unable to believe that such a force in Middle Earth existed.

Aragorn nodded, "It is an army bred for a single purpose: To destroy the world of Men," Aragorn said somberly, "They will be here by nightfall."

Lyrian felt her stomach drop, she was sure that if there had been any food in her stomach, it would have found a way to escape; any hope she had had of lasting claiming victory over the orcs was quickly diminished as she could not help but hear the hint of despair in Aragorn's voice.

"Let them come!" Theoden said, not wanting to show any sign of weakness to the people who were in his company.

Theoden turned to Gamling, Lyrian felt a stab of pain as she realized that her father had been replaced, she knew it was necessary, but it was yet another confirmation that he was gone.

"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms," Theoden ordered, "to beready by nightfall."

Gamling nodded and hurried to carry out his king's orders. While all that were left in the hall followed Theoden to the balcony above the walls of the Hornburg.

"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall, or set foot inside the Horngurg," Theoden said confidently.

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs," Gimli said, trying to impart unpon Theoden how desperate their situation truly was, "their armour is thick and their shields broad."

Theoden looked down at the dwarf with as much frustration as his nephew had upon their first meeting, "I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf," Theoden said with little kindness, "I know how to defend my own keep."

Gimli sagged in defeat, Theoden was truly starting to get on his last nerves. Aragorn smiled slightly and put his hand on Gimli's shoulder, trying to comfort him as he continued to follow Theoden.

"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock," Theoden continued walking around the inner ramparts, "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown…homes rebuilt. Within these walls…we will outlast them," Theoden said confidently, not an ounce of doubt could be detected from the man.

At this Aragorn could feel his own anger at the King rising, "They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people," Aragorn said loudly, trying to get Theoden to realize the true gravity of the situation, "down to the last child."

Theoden turned to Aragorn and took hold of his shoulder, forcing him closer to listen to his quiet words, "What would you have me do? Look at my me. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, thei I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

Theoden stopped as he heart a soft scoff at his words, he turned to see Lyrian behind Aragorn.

"Men and their desire for honor," she said both softly and darkly at both Theoden and Aragorn, "do not loose sight of what these men will be fighting for, no speech of honor and glory will the men hold onto. We will fight to the bitter and and we will claim victory over Saruman because there are hundreds of women and children who are relying on us to see the light of day," Lyrian said, "We cannot forget _that _is what we are fighting for. It will not be our end, but theirs."

Theoden nodded, the girl before him was a girl no longer, Lyrian was a woman, who held more sense than all of his advisors together.

"Get the women and children to the caves," he said shortly releasing Aragorn from his grasp and turning to help with the move.

"We need more time to lay provisions—" Gamling started.

"There is no time," Theoden said thickly, looking at the empty horizon before him; it would not be empty for long, soon orcs would be pouring over the hill the destruction of mankind their goal, "War is upon us. Secure the gate!" he ordered as the gate was sealed tightly shut.

* * *

Eomer dug his knife into the ground picking at the rocks that were before him as he stared into the fire, they had ridden straight through the night, but now his men needed to rest. Regardless of how much Edoras needed them now, his eored would do no good if they collapsed when they reached the kingdom.

"My Lord Eomer!" called Elfhelm as he led two scouts dragging a figure between them, "come quickly!"

Eomer sprang from his seat by the fire, spurred on by the thought that the hooded figure before him could be the white wizard who had cuased so much pain in his people.

"What is your name?" he spoke with barely controlled rage, "speak quickly and I may consider sparing your life."

The cloaked figure chuckled as he looked up at Eomer, "Is this truly how you would greet an old friend?" the man asked.

Eomer's brow furrowed, "Gandalf?" he asked, "news had reached the Riddenmark you had died," he said as he motioned for the scouts to release their hold on the wizard and they hurried away, looking longingly at the meat that was roasting over the fire.

Gandalf nodded looking carefully at the captain before him, "That is partly true," he said cryptically, "However I have not come to discuss my return to Middle Earth-"

"We are riding to Edoras with as much haste as I can ask from my men," Eomer said, "we should reach Edoras by tomorrow night."

Gandalf shook his head, "It is not Edoras you need to ride to. Theoden has take the people of Rohan to Helm's Deep where he foolishly believes that he will be able to withstand the wrath of Saruman."

Eomer's eyes darkened at Gandalf's indirect insult, "Helm's Deep has never failed us before."

Gandalf shook his head, "This is no small party of orcs. Saruman has bred them with the single purpose of wiping out the race of man."

Eomer felt his stomach turn, the woman and children; there simply was not enough men to defend the keep should its walls fail.

"We will travel at first light," Eomer said, "I would not have my men charging an army of orcs as large as you say with horses who are barely able to stand on their own feet," he said cutting off Gandalf's reply.

Gandlaf nodded, knowing that what Eomer said was the truth. Eomer turned to Elfhelm, who without his lord needing to say anything, went to inform the rest of the eored of the change of course. When Gandalf and Eomer were left alone Eomer leant towards Gandalf so there was no chance of any of his men overhearing his next words.

"You have been to Meduseld?" he asked quietly.

Gandalf nodded looking to the young captain with question in his eyes, "I have, Theoden is no longer under the spell of Saruman."

Eomer however found little comfort in this, "What of the Lady Lyrian?" he asked urgently, knowing that she would have been actively protesting against Grima, "What has become of the Wormtongue?"

Gandalf smiled gently, "That burden is hers to bear no more."

Eomer felt his conscience lighten, "That is good," he said, a distant longing in his eyes that Gandalf did not miss, "That is good."

* * *

Aragorn walked through the armory oddly comforted by the clanging of metal as swords and spears were being thrown about and distributed to the men that approached the blacksmiths. He picked up a sword looking at the dismal state of it; just one more assurance that they would not see the light of dawn.

Aragorn threw the sword down and walked over to Gimli who sat smoking on his pipe, seemingly ignorant of the dismal state around him.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," Aragorn said sadly looking at the collection of peasants around him, "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen to many winters," Gimli grunted he too had noticed the state of the men Theoden were calling to be soldiers.

"Or too few," Legolas said bitterly, "Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."

The men in the armory suddenly stop having heard the elf's lack of faith in them.

"_And they should be,"_ he continued, looking pointedly at Aragorn, "_Three hundred, against ten thousand_!"

Aragorn sighed, "_They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras,"_

Legolas scoffed at this, "_Aragorn, they cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!"_

Aragorn gritted his teeth looking sharply at Leoglas, "Then I shall ide as one of them!" he said glaring at Legolas as the sound in the armory ceased once more.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw before turning angrily from Legolas and stormed from the armory. Aragorn was blinded by anger, unaware of his direction until he had calmed enough to take in his surroundings; with a sigh he collapsed onto the steps of the great hall.

He sat with his head in his hands until he caught sight of a young boy looking at him. The boy, upon meeting Aragorn's eyes turned away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring at the lord.

"Give me your sword," Aragorn said calmly.

The boy walked towards Aragorn cautiously before surrendering his sword. Aragorn took it gently and looked into the boy's eyes.

"What is your name?"

"Haleth," the boy said, barely past his thirteenth winter, "Haleth, son of Holdred my lord. The men are saying we will not live out the night. They say that it is hopeless."

Aragorn cringed at the hollow nature of the boy's words, he wished there were some way that the child did not have to experience the hours to come but he knew there was no choice. Aragorn slowly stood up, as if the weight of the world were sitting on his shoulders. He holds the sword out straight in front of him before slowly swinging it in forceful yet graceful circles.

"This is a good sword," Aragorn said looking down at the boy, "Haleth, son of Holdred."

Aragorn put a hand on the boy's shoulder, "there is always hope," he said truly wishing that the boy heeded his words.

Haleth nodded before turning back to spend his last peaceful moments with his friends. Aragorn sighed and sat once again at the steps, unaware that there had been a figure watching him the entire time.

Lyrian sat next to Aragorn quietly, noticing that for some reason, Aragorn did not seem surprised at all by her sudden presence.

"I do not think you have realized yet how much these people look up to you," Lyrian said, "You have helped us emerge from a dark time and for that the men will follow you to the ends of the earth, they know you will lead them to victory."

Aragorn looked at her with his stormy eyes, "You have more faith in me than I deserve," he said sadly looking at the young boys gathered as they prepared to face their death.

"No," Lyrian said, "I trust you."

Archers walked by, their arms laden with hundreds of arrows as they moved to place them at the upper walls preparing for the ugly battle.

Aragorn looked at Lyrian closely, "The women and children were called to the caves, shouldn't you be with them."

Lyrian smiled, "And leave you to all the fun?" she said darkly, "No, I will be fighting along side you. I cannot bear to sit and hear the sounds of the battle and not know exactly what is happening. I will be better fighting out here."

Aragorn said nothing for there was nothing he could say that would convince the headstrong woman beside him to hide in the caves. He doubted that even Eomer would be able to convince her to do something she had no desire to do.

Lyrian stood suddenly offering her hand to Aragorn, "I believe we have put off preparing as long as we can. If we sit here any longer, I feel as if we will find ourselves at the mercy of the orcs with nothing but our swords to protect us."

Aragorn smiled as he stood as well, and nodded to Lyrian before walking away. Lyrian watched him as he walked to the now empty armory. He still carried a burden, but for now at least, it was lessened.

Lyrian walked back to her chambers, her heart pounding in anticipation. She may have trained with the rest of the men, but she had little experience in battle. The skirmish with the Orcs only yesterday was her first exposure to death. Lyrian was not looking forward to the long night of slaughter ahead of her, but she could not allow men to die for her. She would fight beside them.

Lyrian pulled a thin coat of mail over her tunic, it was an old shirt, and she cringed at the thought of what fate had befallen its previous owner, but at the moment, she had little time to be picky. She pulled her boiled leather jerkin over the mail, any other time, she would have taken a moment admire the bold sliver embossing, but at the moment, she could not have cared less. She pulled on her leather greaves, but her fingers were trembling too much to even grab hold of the cord. She sighed as she picked up her sword, never had it felt so heavy, all Lyrian could think of were the countless civilians that were going to die that night.

Lyrian strapped her sword to her side and placed a small dagger in her belt. Her bow she held in her hand, the reassuring weight of many arrows, hung from her back; she was as ready as she was ever going to be. She walked with heavy steps down the steps of the main hall, her mind focusing on the orcs who had been sighted only hours away. She stopped at the armory, looking to see if Aragorn was still there, when she couldn't help but laugh.

Gimli stood before Aragorn and Legolas, his arms outstretched as a very overlarge shirt of mail hung over him.

"We had time," he grumbled noticing now Lyrian's laugh had been added to the chuckles of his friends, "I'd get this adjusted," he shuffled the mail around, trying in vain to make it somehow fit his short body, "It's a little tight across the chest," he grunted.

"I am not sure if that mail will truly help you Gimli," Lyrian said lightly, glad that she had found something she could chuckle at, "I think it will hinder you more than it will keep you safe,"

Gimli turned to look at her for the first time since she had entered the armory, "And where do you think you're going?" he asked, as if he were her father.

Lyrian, "I will be with the archer's at the gate," she said seriously, the moment of laughter gone, "They will need all the help they can get-"

"Oh no you don't lassie," Gimli said as he fitted his own armor back on, "You will be with us on the outer wall, right where the princeling and I can keep a close eye on you."

Lyrian smiled fondly, "Gimli, if you doubt my skills I can assure you I will be fine, I have practiced archery since I was five,"

Legolas cut her off again, "We do not wish to see you hurt, not if we could have protected you."

Lyrian was about to respond when Legolas put a hand on her shoulder, "Besides," he said, "I wish to see your skill at the bow when you are not in the training ring."

Aragorn grinned as his two friends continued to convince Lyrian to join them on the wall and leaned over, "I think they would really rather not face the wrath of Eomer should any harm ever come to you."

Lyrian looked at Aragorn, about to ask him what he meant by that when the musical blast erupted over the walls of the Burg.

Lyrian's eyes widened afraid that the orcs had already arrived, but Legolas, as if he had read her mind shook his head, "that is no Orc horn."

He ran suddenly from the room followed closely by Aragorn and Lyrian.

"Send for the king!" a soldier shouted looking at the ramp leading to the gate, "Open the gate!" he called.

Lyrian could not help but gawk at the army that entered the Keep. Hundreds of Elves, all dressed in the finest armor she had ever seen, marched into the Keep as one, their steps never faltering until their leader raised a finger. The entire company turned to face the approaching king and remained as still as stone.

"How is this possible?" Theoden asked, looking at the large army of elves before him, never in his life would he have dreamed that such a host would come to his aid.

Haldir approached Theoden and bowed gracefully, "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together," his eyes shifted as he noticed Legolas, Aragorn, and Lyrian rush towards him, "We come to honor that allegiance."

Aragorn could not contain himself any longer, he rushed down the steps to stand before him, arms outstretched, "You are most welcome."

Legolas followed to embrace his friend as well, somewhat relieved that he would be standing beside his kinsmen in this battle.

Haldir smiled to Theoden again, "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."


	13. Chapter 11

**This is the final chapter of part 1 of The Light of the Edoras! Thank you to all who have been reviewing, and depending on the number of reviews, I will hopefully be updating soon again!**

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter, I am not sure how I feel about the overall battle, or the reunion between Eomer and Lyrian. Let me know if the reunion was how you expected it would be or if you think I totally missed it.**

**As always, please enjoy! And have a very Happy Easter!**

* * *

Lyrian held her bow so tightly she was not entirely sure where the skin of her hand ended and soft leather grip began. The orc army had now crested the hill and was now so close she could make out distinct snarls. Lyrian could feel herself wishing to tremble, wishing to submit to the overwhelming fear she felt growing within her, yet at the same time, she could feel a reluctant calm as she stood with her feet planted firmly on the stone beneath her. She would not leave this world without a fight. An impatient grunt assured her that she was not the only one who was getting anxious for the battle to begin.

Gimli kept jumping slightly, each time catching a small glimpse of the massive army that was marching towards the gate.

"You could have picked a better spot," he grumbled as he finally stopped trying to see over the wall, it was hopeless and each time he fell back to the ground left him more frustrated than before.

Aragorn was pacing restlessly behind the row of elven archers, he stopped before he reached the small trio and took a moment to truly look at Lyrian. Fear was evident in her stance, yet at the same time he could feel her determination. Gimli looked towards his friend.

"Well lad," he said drawing the attention of Lyrian and Legolas away from the mass of orcs, "Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Lyrian smiled at Gimli's sad attempt at comfort, "Your friends are with you Aragorn," she said.

"Lets hope they last the night," Gimli scoffed.

Aragorn nodded as he turned from the small group. Lightning flashed through the dark knight for a moment, illuminating the exact size of the force to the poor collection of soldiers inside the keep. Aragorn felt the rain begin to fall from the sky as thunder roared overhead. Aragorn drew himself up straighter, this would not be the end of Rohan; he would not allow such a thing to pass.

"_Show them no mercy!"_ he shouted to the elvish warriors, "_For you shall receive none!"_

An abnormally large orc raised his hand and with a growl stopped the progression of the orcs who now stood before the men, taunting them, and waiting for the men to make the first move.

Gimli resumed his previous efforts of seeing over the wall, "What's happening out there?" he growled, feeling more helpless then he had ever felt before simply because he could not see the enemy that was before him.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas said, his eyes never leaving the orcs, "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli let out a hearty laugh.

Aragorn, some distance away, did not share in the lighthearted moment between his two friends. He drew his sword comforted by the soft sounds of the elven bows as they were drawn back, the archers' tense and eager for battle.

Lyrian pulled her bow back satisfied by the familiar pull and weight of her near constant companion.

"Hold!" came Aragorn's shout.

Lyrian tensed at the sudden silence of the orcs, something was wrong. With a roar they surged upon the keep.

"_Prepare to fire!" _Aragorn shouted.

"Their armor is weak at the neck and beneath the arm," Legolas said softly to Lyrian who nodded her head in understanding.

She felt not fear anymore, only sheer determination so survive to see the sunrise.

"_Release the arrows!" _

Lyrian let her fingers loose feeling great satisfaction as she saw her arrow embed itself in the neck of an oncoming orc.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli shouted desperate to be let into the action.

"_Full volley!"_

Lyrian shot arrow after arrow into the swarming mass of orcs below, but it was of no use. Each orc she shot down, three seemed to take its place.

"Send them to me! Come on!" Gimli shouted, his axe gripped in his hand.

Lyrian ducked as an arrow flew towards her head. Gimli saw the flash of fear that went through her eyes, a woman as pure as Lyrian did not belong in such a battle. The fear was instantly gone as Lyrian stood back up and with a yell shot her own arrow in the direction of the one that had almost claimed her life. Gimli had no doubt that the orc would never see the world of the living again.

"LADDERS!"

"Good!" Gimli yelled.

Lyrian tucked her bow behind her back and pulled the sword from her side.

"You stay where I can see you Lassie," Gimli said as the first ladders landed on the wall.

Lyrian smiled, "Are you afraid I'll better you Gimli?"

Gimli's eyes widened as the ladder began to shake with the weight of the oncoming orcs, "A lady of the court best a dwarf in battle! Not while I am breathing!" he growled sending his axe through the stomach of the fist orc over the wall.

Lyrian could not help but let a small chuckle escape as she too began to slash her way through the orcs. They were not as skilled as she, but where the orcs lacked Lyrian's skill, they made up for in brute strength. Lyrian held her sword up to parry a deadly blow from an orc and almost gasped as the dark sword connected with hers. She could feel the force course through her body. With an angry shove she startled the orc enough to shove her sword through his neck.

"Legolas!" Gimli called from behind her, "Two already!" he cried holding up his fingers.

"I'm on seventeen!" Legolas called as he pulled another arrow onto his bow.

Gimli felt his anger rise, "I'll have no pointy ear outscoring me!" he said as he turned to kill another orc as it climbed over the wall.

Legolas turned back to Gimli, "Nineteen!"

Gimli growled and turned his attention back to the orcs cresting the top of the ladder sending a deadly blow to each causing them to crumble under the force of his great axe.

"Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty! Twenty one!"

Gimli suddenly felt a force on the back of his head and was forced to the ground. He tried to turn to face his enemy and barely shuffled to the side soon enough before a great sword crushed the stone where his head had been. He quickly turned to his back facing the giant orc with his axe raised, ready for the next blow when he saw a booted foot kick the orc between the legs. The orc fell to his knees causing Gimli to stare in wonder as the orcs head was separated from his shoulders revealing a dirty Lyrian grinning behind it.

"Men," panted Lyrian, "all have the same weakness."

Gimli laughed as he picked himself up and resumed his attack of the orcs.

Lyrian kicked the body of the orc down and turned her attention to the ladders once more. The dead were piled around her feet, elf and orc alike, yet it seemed as if the sized of the orc army had not diminished in the slightest.

She growled as she sent her sword through the thick armor of an orc's stomach watching with great satisfaction as it fell back to the ground. Her work was not finished as several orcs had made it over the ladder. Lyrian turned, escaping a blow from the orc and pulled her sword around to stop the next blow. She was surrounded by the angry clamor of swords as she parried blow after blow, she could not get close to either of the two orcs she was now facing. A burning pain in her arm caused her to cry out.

Legolas turned towards the sound knowing exactly who had made it. Lyrian was surrounded by two orcs and was growing more and more frustrated, as she could not kill either. He sent an arrow through the neck of one. Giving Lyrian the time to turn to the other orc and with several jabs stabbed through the orcs neck. She knelt down for a moment in exhaustion, holding her arm tightly with her right hand. Legolas rushed towards her, worry overcoming any other emotion he felt at the moment.

"Lyrian!" he called, stabbing an orc as he made his way over to her, "are you alright?"

Lyrian pulled her hand away from her arm and cringed at the amount of blood that now coated her skin, she did not miss Legolas' worried eyes, "Its just a scratch," she said confidently as she stood up drawing every ounce of inner strength she had.

Legolas raised an eyebrow noticing the dark stain that covered her left arm. Lyrian however ignored his concern and turned her attention back to the orcs, glad that she was not left handed.

Aragorn had made his way towards the group, looking every part the great warrior he was. A large orc running through the army below with a torch held high caught Aragorn's attention. The orc was running straight towards the one gap in the Deeping Wall.

"_Bring him down Legolas!" _he shouted, suspicious of what exactly the orc was doing. Lyrian too brought her bow forward and sent several arrows towards the running orc.

"_Kill him! Kill him!"_ Aragorn shouted.

Legolas shot one last arrow to the orc who tripped and fell forward, his torch just barely touching the spiked ball below the wall. Lyrian felt the force of the explosion as the wall blew outward in pieces she flew back landing on top of Legolas who grunted at the sudden weight.

"Aragorn!" Gimli shouted looking down into the empty space where the wall had been.

With out thinking he ran to the edge and jumped into the mass of orcs below.

"Gimli!" Lyrian shouted, rushing towards the edge as well where she sent her last remaining arrows into the writhing army until she saw Gimli's head surface. She rushed down the steps following Legolas's path of destruction and killing any orc that he had missed. Legolas held his arm out, stopping her as the elves behind Aragorn let loose a volley of arrows. The two joined the charge as the searched through the water for Gimli.

Lyrian shouted in surprise as Gimli's sputtering head erupted from the water where she had been about to put her foot.

"Stop lying around Gimli," she said pulling the wet dwarf to his feet, "There is work that needs doing!"

"Lying around!" Gimli growled as he unleashed his anger on the orcs that were quickly overtaking the wall.

"_To the keep!"_ Aragorn shouted. Lyrian looked up to see Theoden motion for the troops to fall back.

Legolas rushed passed her with another Elvish soldier behind him and grabbed Gimli by the arm and pulled him towards the keep.

"What are you doing?" Gimli yelled trying to squirm his way out of the hands that were holding him, "What are you stopping for?"

Lyrian rushed after them her sword drawn doing her best to keep the orcs back as they rushed to the safety of the keep, but she found no respite within the walls of the Burg. Orcs were pushing their way through the crumbling gate of the keep.

"To the gate!" yelled Theoden as he and his guards rushed past her, "Draw your swords!"

Lyrian put her bow aside; it was useless now, as she had run out of arrows long ago.

"Timbers!" Theoden yelled leaning against the wall, Lyrian turned to push the heavy wood towards the gate, "Brace the gate!"

"Shore up the door!" Theoden shouted urging his men to move faster towards the gate as they piled up fresh timber against the door.

"Throw another one over here!" Lyrian shouted her arms outstretched to catch the airborne timber.

"Gimli! Aragorn!" Theoden shouted drawing Lyrian's attention to the gate, "Get out of there!"

Lyrian could only hope that Aragorn and Gimli would somehow manage to make it back to the keep in one piece. She could almost feel the force in which the many ladders were being thrown against the Burg. These ladders were different; they could not fall from the wall. Lyrian gripped her sword tighter, this could be the end.

"Pull everybody back!" Theoden shouted to Gamling, "Pull them back!"

"Fall back!" Gamling urged the soldiers, "fall back!"

"They have broken through! The castle is breached! Retreat!"

Lyrian ran towards the main hall, pulling the tired soldiers behind her when the gate fell. The ugly snarling orcs had now entered the keep.

"Hurry!" came Aragorn's voice from the wall, "Inside!" he said barely able to hide his relief when he saw Lyrian seemingly unharmed pulling wounded soldiers to the hall, "Get them inside!"

Lyrian urged the soldiers on, passing the wounded man she was carrying to another soldier, "Hurry!" she shouted killing several orcs that had begun to chase after the retreating army, "Get in the keep!"

She felt a hand grab her and pull her along, startling her until she saw it was Legolas with a grin look on his face. She turned away from the orcs and ran with all haste inside the hall just as the soldiers slammed the doors behind her.

Theoden stood alone in the center of the hall, "The fortress is taken," he said unable to shut out the booming against the door of the hall as the orcs tried to break into the keep.

Aragorn turned towards the shell-shocked king as he helped soldiers drag benches towards the door, "You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it," he shouted walking towards the king, "They have died defending it!"

Lyrian walked over beside Aragorn and watched the king with curious eyes.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" Aragorn asked Theoden who only silently stared ahead of him "Is there no other way!" Aragorn insisted.

Gamling looked back and forth between the ranger and his king, "There is one passage," he said shocked that his king had said nothing, "It leads into the mountains, but they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

Aragorn nodded turning back to help the men pull a heavy table against the door, "Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass. And barricade the entrance!" he shouted to Gamling who rushed towards the caves with no hesitation.

"So much death," Theoden said dreamily, Lyrian turned to him with a fire in her eyes, this was not the king she knew Theoden was, the Theoden she knew, would have never given up hope, "What can Men do against such reckless hate?" he continued.

Lyrian stood so she was directly before Theoden, "Ride out and face it!" she said loudly causing everyone in the hall to stop and look at her in wonder, "Ride out and face them in battle! I will ride out alone if I must, but I will not sit locked in a room to face my doom. We will die barricaded in a Hall!" she yelled, "We will meet them in battle!" she said determinedly.

Aragorn stood beside Lyrian, and watched as the king transformed before him into a mighty and confidant leader of his people, "For death and glory," Theoden said.

Lyrian looked at him, "For Rohan. For your people," she said passionately.

"The sun is rising," Gimli said calmly.

Aragorn felt hope grow within him for the first time that night, remembering Gandalf's words, '_Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn…look to the east.'_

"Yes…" Theoden said, "…Yes… The horn of Helm Hammerhand, shall sound in the Deep, one last time."

"Yes!" Gimli said, his excitement growing.

Lyrian pulled Lightfoot forward as several stable boys brought up the horses, and was about to put her foot up when Aragorn placed his hands out in front of him, a small smile on his face, he said nothing, but gently lifted Lyrian into her saddle, when she looked down, his eyes held a mysterious glint.

The door began to quiver, "Fell deeds, awake," Theoden said, pulling his helmet over his head, "Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red dawn!"

The loud blast of the great horn of the Burg exploded over the valley as the door burst open.

"Forth Eorlingas!"

Lyrian pulled her sword out and with a small rear from Lightfoot charged towards the mass of orcs that began to surge into the hall. The small army galloped through the mass of orcs killing those in their path as they descended into the valley outside the Burg.

A blinding white light swept over the valley and Lyrian looked towards the source.

"Rohirrim!" came a yell that caused Lyrian's heart to soar.

"Eomer," Theoden said fondly looking towards the brave captain and his eored.

"To the King!"

Eomer's eored surged down the hill before blasting through the line of orcs, killing all that they passed. Lyrian let loose a battle cry as she plunged her sword into the orcs around her as Lightfoot reared and crushed any orc unfortunate to have fallen below her hooves.

"To the trees!" Theoden shouted.

Lightfoot reared just as an orc reached up towards Lyrian and pulled her from her saddle she angrily thrashed about trying to free herself from the orc's grasp when with a sudden kick to her head, everything went dark as she fell to the ground.

"Stay out of the forest!" Eomer shouted as the orcs sprinted towards the trees, "Keep away from the trees!"

He reined Firefoot to a stop and watched as the forest came alive and the shrieks of the dying orcs washed over the land.

"VICTORY!"

Eomer thrust his sword in the air as well, "VICTORY!"

* * *

Legolas approached Gimli who sat on a dead orc calmly smoking his pipe as if he were still in the comfort of his own home. Legolas looked at him smugly, gently stroking his bow, "Final count…forty two."

"Forty-two?" Gimli said, nodding mockingly at him, "That's not bad for a pointy-eared Elvish princeling. I myself am sitting pretty on forty three."

Legolas swiftly drew his bow and sent an arrow in between Gimli's legs at the Uruk-hai Gimli was sitting on.

"Forty three," Legolas smirked.

"He was already dead," Gimli growled.

Legolas looked closely at the orc before looking back to Gimli, "He was twitching," he said quickly.

Gimli felt his face flush, "He was twitching because he's got my axe," he said grabbing hold of his axe moving it so the entire orc twitched, "embedded in his nervous system!"

Legolas was about to answer when he was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned around to see Eomer watching the pair with amusement.

"I do not mean to interrupt your debate," he said, "But I was wondering if you had seen Lyrian?" Eomer continued with a hint of worry.

Legolas felt worried too as he had only now realized he had not seen the girl since they had charged the orcs.

"She is not with Eowyn, and I have no doubt she would have set herself in the middle of the –"

He stopped suddenly as he saw Lightfoot rearing and utterly panicked in the middle of battlefield, surrounded by soldiers who were desperately trying to calm the wild horse.

"Lyrian!" he shouted, hoping that the cause for Lightfoot's distress was not at the death of the rider.

Lyrian turned towards the sound of her name, greeted by the sight of Eomer. Tall and every bit the strong and confident soldier she had seen him last. His brows were furrowed with worry as he looked at her from afar. She slowly began to walk towards him as he did the same; at that moment no one else existed but them, Eomer broke out in a run jumping over the bodies of the orcs that littered the ground before him.

Lyrian rushed towards him, unable to disguise the pure and utter joy at seeing him again. The two came to stand before one another and paused for a moment, as if trying to discern whether or not the person in front of them were real or not.

Eomer reached out a hand and brushed her bruised forehead, his eyes overcome with concern as he noticed her arm as well.

Lyrian put her hand over his, as it rested against her bruised face, "Its nothing," she said softly, looking into his stormy eyes, eyes that she had thought she would never see again, "I will be fine."

Eomer nodded slowly before he brought his arm around and pulled her into a tight embrace, "I thought I would never see you again," he said as they held each other close.

Lyrian laughed as she pulled Eomer tighter. Eomer smiled as well, picking her up and turning in a circle, overjoyed as she laughed, a true laugh that he knew had not passed her lips since he had left.

* * *

Gandalf drew Shadowfax to a stop overlooking the now empty plains of Rohan. Aragorn in his company followed closely by Theoden and Eomer pulled up beside him.

"Sauron's wrath will be terrible," Gandalf said, "his retribution swift."

Eomer felt his eyes drawn towards the direction of Mordor.

"The battle for Helm's Deep is over," Gandalf continued, "The battle for Middle-earth is about to begin."

* * *

**Please Please Please Review! They mean so much! **


End file.
